


Trickster's Paradise

by PuppyHawk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyHawk/pseuds/PuppyHawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.</p><p>"I popped down here because, what with the whole me dying for you crazy kids and your efforts against the universal order of things, I thought we had kind of a thing going on."<br/>"And?" Sam refused to say that he thought so, too. That when Gabriel had sauntered over, sat next to him and ordered something ridiculously pink, fizzy and alcoholic as if it was the simplest thing in the world, his knees had gone weak with shock and something very much like deep, bone crushing relief. Because Gabriel would never let him hear the end of it, and Sam needed a little more time with it himself, first, to figure out what the hell ’it’ was supposed to be.</p><p>Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk. (AU, as no Kevin, or Crowley. Not because I don't like them, they just didn't quite fit.)</p><p>Dedicated to: http://uberboned.tumblr.com Because she is my favourite person in the whole wide world and I love her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's Someone Like You Doing In A Place Like This?

"You’re kidding right?"

Gabriel grinned and whistled through his teeth. Sam resisted the urge to face palm.

"No really, Osc’ll do something drastic if he's exposed to the sugary, lyrical goodness that is Shakespeare-Marlowe lovin’. He’ll write a note citing the sheer beautiful genius of it. Unless they start an orgy instead." The archangel-come-trickster cocked his golden head to the side. "Not that I’d mind walking in on that, if you know what I mean?" He dropped Sam a wink that left the hunter feeling debauched, and seriously, how did one person manage to fit that much innuendo into the movement of an eyelid? Trying not to think about that, nor how three of his favourite literary genii would forever be bookmarked next to Gabriel and Gay porn in his brain, Sam heaved a gusty sigh.

"Gabriel, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. You miraculously came back from the dead, snuck into heaven under Metatron’s nose -"

"Not exactly hard." Gabriel interrupted. Sam frowned.

"Yeah, right, he’s the only angel left in heaven."

Gabriel winced. "No need to remind me, dad sure sucks at timing with this whole resurrection lark." He paused when he caught the look on Sam’s face, and ok, if anyone was going to complain about his dad’s timing or general planning, the Winchesters had the right to be first in line. Especially Sam - all that devotion, and for what? The irony that he was tainted from the start? Gabriel winced and backtracked quickly. "The point is, they were just angels. There’s a great big ’arch’ in front of my kind for a reason kiddo."

"In front of you. There's none of your kind left." It was a reflex, and they both knew it, but Gabriel still twitched, his subtle version of full body recoil. Sam, on the other hand, switched to full on kicked puppy.

"I’m sorry- I didn't mean- it must be-"

Gabriel raised a finger and stopped the stuttering, because dear dad it was going to give him a headache. Instead he fixed Sam with a pointed stare and raised one golden eyebrow.

"So. What exactly was your problem?"

Sam raised his hands palm upwards, rolling his massive shoulders, and huffed what might have been a laugh if not for all the exasperation he packed into it. "My problem is that instead of finding your family you hid from them, again, sequestered yourself a neat little niche in heaven and started collecting geniuses."

"The plural of genius is genii." Sam's nostrils flared and he refused to answer, because a) he knew that and b) it wasn't the point.

Instead, seeing that Gabriel was going to say little else, he continued. "And I don't understand why you’re here." He gestured at the alley outside the bar in which Gabriel had found him, drowning his frustrations over the trials, and the angels, and Dean and Benny. And the fact that Cas was so broken the silence in the bunker felt suffocating, and that he was losing weight rapidly: in spite of Dean’s purchase of a dozen cookery books for a dozen different cuisines and increasingly expert culinary endeavors. And the fact that in spite of all the pain he’d been through, he still felt unclean, and he wasn’t half wondering if he should just send himself to hell and be done with it already.

Gabriel, who had been leaning against the filthy brick wall before him, straightened and shook his shoulders, a gesture Sam had seen Cas perform once or twice. He had a theory it was to do with their non corporeal wings, but he’d not had the courage to test it. He wasn’t pure enough to ask questions about something so holy - in spite of everything, he still believed that.

"I popped down here because, what with the whole me dying for you crazy kids and your efforts against the universal order of things, I thought we had kind of a thing going on."

"And?" Sam refused to say that he thought so, too. That when Gabriel had sauntered over, sat next to him and ordered something ridiculously pink, fizzy and alcoholic as if it was the simplest thing in the world, his knees had gone weak with shock and something very much like deep, bone crushing relief. Because Gabriel would never let him hear the end of it, and Sam needed a little more time with it himself, first, to figure out what the hell ’it’ was supposed to be. And why he wasn’t still angry with the trickster over the whole Groundhog Day thing he’d pulled, a joke that still woke him at night, paralysed with fear, face wet with silent tears. Gabriel, in the mean time, had lifted one narrow shoulder, hands stuffed deeply in his pockets, and paused before replying.

"Well. I know my brothers better than most. And I had a pretty good guess that you morons would come up with self-sacrifice to save the day. Didn't take much to ascertain that that was true. A little more to find out what happened next." The archangel scowled, as if the next words tasted bad. "I just wanted to make sure you and Cas and your big brother meatloaf were ok, alright? It wasn’t personal. Just a waste of a pretty damn epic sacrifice if you were, you know-"

"Irretrievably broken and irrevocably insane?" Sam said it with a smile, and Gabriel flinched, actually flinched. And now Sam was feeling like an asshole again and really, that wasn’t fair, because given their track record together, Gabriel had totted up more crimes than Sam could catch up with in a lifetime, even if he wanted to. And yeah, Sam had committed crimes too, ones that he still hadn’t, wouldn’t forgive himself for, but that didn't mean he’d take a bunch of hypocritical crap from a fallen being of exponential power with an inexplicable and insatiable craving for candy. And yes, his life was categorically insane if that was a sentence that made sense in his mind. Sam was jerked out of his half horrified, half pissed reverie by thin, sandy fingers being waved enthusiastically in front of his face. Frowning deeply, he was more ok with personal space and breaches therein than Dean, but that wasn't saying much and really only applied to Cas, Sam leaned back and shoved the smaller male’s hand away.

Gabriel gave a nervous chuckle. "Don't go all beautiful mind on me now gigantor. I'm looking forward to our second date."

Frown deepening, Sam took a step back and tilted his head to the side. "Gabriel, this wasn’t a-" Halfway through his sentence Gabriel grinned, dropped another wink and, with a waggle of his fingers, vanished into the air. Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and running his fingers through his hair, finishing his sentence half heartedly to the brick wall. "Date."

            

* * *

 

 

The second time Sam sees Gabriel, the archangel takes him to Paris. One moment, Sam’s out buying groceries to take back to the bunker, the next he's in a cafe on a charming cobbled street, and there’s a small, smug, handsome man sitting opposite him, behind a basketful of fresh croissants. Sam knows it’s Paris because the eiffel tower is looming close enough that the pastries in this place must be offensively expensive. That and everything is written in French.

Sam raises his eyebrows. "You murdered my brother in front of me, then resurrected him only to do it again, making me watch for so long I lost track."

Gabriel blinked, rubbing a flake of pastry from the corner of his mouth before setting down his pain-au-chocolat (because really, what else would he be having? Sam’s a little worried he guessed that right and is not surprised.)

"You sentenced two of my brothers to an eternity in a cage. In Hell."

Sam doesn't punch the table or stomp his foot, because he's not a child, but he wants to. "A) you hurt mine first, b) I spent more than a century down there with them for that, and c) my brother wasn’t try to bring on the freakin’ apocalypse."

A beautiful, slender woman with short curly black hair turned their way as Sam’s voice rose, and he would have blushed if he wasn’t so focused on the angel before him, and the anger suddenly rolling in waves through his body. God help him, but it felt good to be angry about something real, and not just helpless in the face of the universe in general.

Gabriel, in the mean time, was flicking through the stylish, laminated menu between them, lips moving around the French words silently in a way Sam knew he meant to be as sexually provocative as it was. After a moment more, of Gabriel reading and Sam glaring, the trickster looked up. "Are you  done?" He made a show of looking from one side to the other, then raised a hand and stage whispered. "You're making a bit of a scene."

Sam crushed the peach napkin before him in his fist and gave Gabriel his best scowl. The man smirked. "Is that all you have to say?"

"No. First, you laid the first punch? Sammy, as cases go that’s a weak one from the would-be barrister. And I’d heard you were the mature Winchester, for all that the haircut speaks to the contrary." In spite of himself, Sam raised a hand to his hair, frowning. Gabriel smirked and used his fork to scoop up a croissant from the basket between them and deposit it on Sam’s plate. He continued quietly, staring down at his menu as he did so. "I believed my almost permanent sacrifice proved where I stood on the matter of the apocalypse. It doesn't mean I have to like the fact that two of my brothers are burning in Hell and the other, for all that he was the definition of a stick up the petard, is dead."

Sam fought the urge to pity this man, focusing on different flavours of syrup and Dean getting run over, and shot, and stabbed and mauled by a dog. "That’s exactly my point."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he dropped the menu. Sam, realising how he must’ve sounded, raised one overtly large hand and shook his head. "No, no I'm sorry, not about your brothers. That sucks. Well, for you. I mean, I can’t say I feel too bad about it, from a utilitarian point of view. Or, actually, a humanitarian one, but you know, abstractly, I get how much that has to hurt you."

Gabriel raised both eyebrows and folded his arms. "Gee Sammy, that was poetic. Really got to the heart of the matter there didn’t you? I could almost cut the compassion with a knife, you lay it on so thick."

Sam took several deep breaths, because he didn’t have the money and Cas didn't have the mojo to get him back from Paris without Gabriel’s help, and continued. "Not the point, and you know it."

"So what is the answer to this riddle? Do tell, oh wise and cryptic giant."

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows and Sam, to his own surprise, fought down the side of a grin. "What I don't get is that if you had the courage to do that, if you chose our side in the end- proved that you were, in all truth, the one archangel who lived up to the justice bit." Gabriel’s eyebrows nearly climbed past his hairline and Sam shrugged. "When it mattered. Why did you run when you came back? And why, after that, come find me? Surely you have better things to be doing? We’re not exactly buddies."

"That little speech would say otherwise." Gabriel smirked at Sam’s scowl. "No really, had I not exposed the poor thing to centuries of sheer scandal, I think my vessel would be blushing. Though I'm not sure if that’s still the case, considering I'm walking around in vessel mark 2." A look of sheer horror passed over the archangel’s face, and Sam spun, looking down the empty, pretty street for any potential threats. A light, warm hand rested on his forearm and he turned back to be met with the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he’d ever had the misfortune to come across, including the actual puppies that had been under Amelia’s care. "Sammy, I think I'm a virgin. Take me now." The woman with the black curly hair, who’d been watching them the entire time, went bright red and turned back to her book with a nervous brush of her ear and quick crossing of her legs.

Sam snorted with laughter in spite of himself. "Really? I thought this was supposed to be a serious conversation."

"It is serious!" Gabriel wrinkled his nose. "I think I'm...pure." The expression the archangel was pulling was a lot like that a cat pulled when dropped in a bath, and the comparison just made Sam laugh harder, surprised at himself.

"Well, ah, good luck with remedying that." He glanced around. " I guess you're in a good city to do it."

Gabriel hummed in what was neither agreement nor disagreement, and shrugged when Sam turned to him. "It isn't Amsterdam, but it’ll have to do. On which note."

He snapped his fingers, and a pile of currency landed on the table. The woman with the black hair, who’d been watching them from the corner of her eye, jumped a little then shook her head. Gabriel offered an arm to Sam, who just raised an eyebrow and stood too. Gabriel shrugged. "Ready for a quick tour? I know all the best bits."

In spite of himself, Sam smiled. Half of him thought he might be dreaming. Another part thought that this might be inching closer to the top of the list of really stupid things he’d done. But mostly he wanted to relax, and not think about the why’s, how's and wherefore’s. And he’d always wanted to go to Paris.

"Can we start with Sainte Chapelle?" He said it a little shyly, ducking his head and waiting to be teased. Gabriel’s lips just quirked upwards, and he got on tiptoes to rest one hand on Sam’s shoulder. Before the hunter even had time to lean down for the archangel, they were gone, and then they were somewhere else.

The room was full of tourists, but that seemed irrelevant. The soft amber light of electric candles pushed the shadows back in the corners of the room, but this was nothing, a single note amidst a harmony of colour unlike anything Sam had ever seen. He stepped forward, closer to the stained glass windows he’d seen once in a book, when he still believe that angels were good and God was forgiving and he could one day find redemption. A riot of colour splashed across the glass, filtering the light down in flowers of bright, beautiful warmth. Shutting his eyes, Sam tried to remember his past self, tuning out the soft foot steps and hushed voices, and focusing on the butterfly caress of light over his skin. He nearly found it, somewhere, that innocence he’d once had. He felt close to whole. And then someone brushed his elbow with a gruff "pardonez moi," and the moment was broken. Sam looked around, and wasn’t sure what to feel when he realised Gabriel had been watching him. He pushed it away for further examination and stepped with the angel, outside and then, in a sudden displacement of air, onto the paving stones outside Notre Dame. Sam was so busy staring at the Gothic snarl of angels and devils crowded in exquisite relief over the buildings arches and columns, he hardly noticed Gabriel was speaking. But then the word "Dean" caught his ear, and he tuned in, tearing his eyes away from the masterpiece before him.

"Imagine coming home, waking from death and finally, after millennia, finding the courage to walk home. Thinking the whole way of the prodigal son and praying to no one, because you know no one’s listening but you need to pray anyway, that they’ll let you back in. Imagine going home, to that bunker of yours." Sam stared, and Gabriel sighed. "Sam, I'm an archangel, of course I know about the Men of Letters. Anyway. Imagine, you go home, full of nerves and worries and hopes. But the door’s unlocked. There’s nobody there. Everything’s half finished, like the scene of a crime." Gabriel shut his eyes. "And you woke up with nothing, and found the courage, finally, to try and find something. You're so sure your sacrifice wasn’t in vain. And everywhere you look it seems that way, but when you’re home." Opening his eyes, Gabriel turned from where he’d been facing the cathedral doors to meet Sam’s eyes. "I don't just have one brother Sam. Nor two, nor three. I have hundreds. I have a city’s worth, more than that. And I know all their names. I may be closer to some than others, but I know all of them. I can feel their grace." His small hand tightened into a fist. "Their grace is calling, screaming, crying, raging. I was the prodigal son, ready to re-forge paradise. But heaven was empty." Gabriel gave Sam a smile and a small shrug. "All the angels were here."

"So you ran."

Fixing Sam with a stare, Gabriel raised both eyebrows. "Would you have done any differently?" Neither of them said anything, because they both knew the answer. It came after Wednesday, with a capital 'W'. Sam moved from that to Amelia, and wished he had the strength to break his own character and make it something better. Instead he turned back to the famous cathedral in front of him, looming dark and powerful against the bright blue sky.

"So what will you do now?"

Gabriel shook his head. "I don't know. There are more factions among the fallen than Dad’s church, and trust me, that’s saying something."

Sam snorted. "I’ll bet." He stepped forward, turning so Gabriel was forced to look at him again. The archangel didn't seem happy about it. "They’ll need a leader. It’d do them good. Angels are made for obedience, right?" Sam though about something Cas had said, about teaching fish poetry, and felt his heart sink a little. The angels were not going to like human government.

Huffing, Gabriel shook his head. "Right, when they’re in heaven, and there’s a hierarchy, and big daddy’s giving the orders - then you’ve got a whole host of robo-seraphim. On earth? with civil war? A fallen angel is more like a teenager at the peak of puberty, plus a sprinkling of super human abilities and a big fat dollop of ’I’m right because I say so.’ It’d be a nightmare to get them in line, and I’m not sure it could be done. Or that I'd be the one to do it."

Folding his arms, it took no effort for Sam to keep up when Gabriel began to walk, away from him and towards the cathedral. "And it’s not worth a try? No one thought free will would work,but we cancelled the apocalypse."

Gabriel raised both eyebrows at the man beside him. "Because that worked out so well for you."

Sam swallowed hard and tried not to think of anything - because yes, somehow Cas had taken the PTSD, but the memories were still there - he had a feeling they were etched onto his broken soul, and he didn't want to start freaking out. Not here, not now.

"You have a really hard time getting the point, don't you?"

"On the contrary, I've been told I'm rather excellent at it." Gabriel smirked and Sam blushed, squashing down the mental image of Gabriel’s hands wrapped firmly round- nope. Stopping there. A potentially dangerous weirdly  chatty archangel was not going to distract him with innuendo. He was not a teenager, god dammit! Which was when Sam noticed that Gabriel had jumped the queue and headed inside already. With profuse apologies, and 50 of the stack of euro bills San found in his pocket, he followed Gabriel inside.

He found the man next to a column, staring at a round, beautiful window Sam recognised (though he'd never admit it) from a Disney film. Leaning against the column beside him, San stared with Gabriel at the magnificent lake of light filtered through the complex frame of metal and glass. "Ok, you explained the whole heaven thing, and, ah, sorry."

Gabriel shrugged. "What are you talking about gigantor? I actually have a dead poet’s society. Robin Williams eat your beautiful heart out."

Sam wondered whether he should call out the angel on his latest evasion, and dismissed it. He was curious, not cruel. Instead he grinned a little. "Shakespeare and Marlowe huh?"

Gabriel snorted. "You've got no idea. Love story to end all, blah blah blah. I swear, it’s like Mills and Boon only the dialogue is infinitely better written."

San giggled, and wondered if it was appropriate to laugh about dead gay romance in a church with a fallen angel. Then he wondered at what point in his life circumstances like this occurred, and no one was trying to stab him. Abruptly, he felt sincerely grateful, and filed away his next question for (he hoped) another visit from the trickster.

"Look, I don’t know what your motives are, and I'm still not sure they’re entirely innocent."

Gabriel huffed, folding his arms. "Sammy- don't insult me. I’m a long, long way from innocent."

And didn't they both know it? Sam bit his lip before continuing, shoving down the sarcasm and focusing on the gratitude he’d been feeling only moments before. "The point is. Thank you." He paused, wondering if he should elaborate: but Gabriel was smiling, really smiling, with something like softness in his honey brown eyes. And Sam figured that was enough.

Both of them lit candles in the church, though neither asked the other why.

When Sam got back, Gabriel was not with him, leaving him to deal with a panicked Dean ("a grocery trip does not take five hours Sammy, why won't you tell me where you've been? Is someone threatening you?") and a mournful Cas ("you forgot the pie...") All in all, it was exactly what Sam had expected, and better than it could have been. He wasn't sure why he hadn’t told either of them about Gabriel yet. He guessed because Dean would just try to hunt the trickster, self sacrifice or no ("we let the body count decide Sammy" and why didn't that matter to him suddenly?) As for Cas. Something in Sam told him that if Gabriel could restore his younger brother, he would have. The fact that he hadn’t... Sam  didn't want to give Castiel hope only to see it dashed. The guy had gone through enough already. As far as Sam was concerned, he’d happily keep angels out of Castiel's future as long as he could; even confusing, candid, really powerful ones. He knew Dean felt the same way. Really, it made sense to keep Gabriel a secret. Most practical solution for everyone involved. It definitely wasn’t because figuring out the archangel had become Sam’s new mission. Or that he found him fascinating. Or that, irrationally, he didn’t want to share. Pure logic. Definitely.


	2. Call Dibs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> Gabriel beamed. "Baccy!!! So glad you could make it!!"  
> The man sniffed, rubbing his large red nose, and picked up the jug. "It’s Bacchus, Loki. Going places you shouldn't be again? I thought I told you this time period was my playground."  
> Gabriel shrugged, gesturing lazily to Sam, who’d now drawn his knife and was waiting for an attack. "Don't worry, it’s strictly tourism. Trigger Happy the Giant here wanted to come see your sandbox."
> 
>  Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

"I still don’t get it."

Gabriel pouted. "What, the time travel thing? Sammy I told you already, you just have to stop thinking of time as a linear progression-"

"No, I get that." Sam interrupted, weaving through the crowd of Romans and absently wondering whether Gabriel had enchanted them not to notice their 21st century garb. Stealing a plum from a market stall, Gabriel rubbed it over his jacket and replied with his mouth full."so what? You’ve seriously never heard of Speaking in Tongues? No worries, by the way, not like that’s a significant angelic blessing or anything."

"No, and thank you." Sam said it fervently, because he was thankful. Being able to speak any language? For a scholar, there weren’t many better gifts. Finally managing to loop in front of the man, with some choice glares at a knot of scrawny Romans, Sam held up his hands. Gabriel stopped, though he also sighed and shook his arms like a child.

"What Sam? I want to see the dancing girls!"

Sam tried not to laugh. "Look, what I don't get is why you're suddenly being so candid? Or, for that matter, the round the world trip we’ve got going on." Lowering his hands, Sam continued. "I mean, come on. You hid from the entire angelic host for millennia, masquerading as a pagan god. You tormented Dean and I with magic games instead of coming out and just saying what you wanted. You’re not the kind of guy who lays his cards on the table. So I’ve got to ask, in the interests of self preservation, why?"

Gabriel clenched his fists, gaze flicking from side to side on the hot, busy street. Then he patted Sam on the shoulder, tiptoeing to do so.

"Vesuvian wine first, motives later."

Once they had their wine, a whole earthenware jug of it, Gabriel sprinkled something inside and said something that Sam, even with his new, magical abilities, could not understand. Frowning, the hunter reached for his knife, halfway to standing, and jumped when a plump man in a toga appeared on the chair beside him in a cloud of purple spoke.

Gabriel beamed. "Baccy!!! So glad you could make it!!"

The man sniffed, rubbing his large red nose, and picked up the jug. "It’s Bacchus, Loki. Going places you shouldn't be again? I thought I told you this time period was my playground."

Gabriel shrugged, gesturing lazily to Sam, who’d now drawn his knife and was waiting for an attack. "Don't worry, it’s strictly tourism. Trigger Happy the Giant here wanted to come see your sandbox."

Bacchus smirked, twisting his finger and conjuring a group of dancing girls wearing skimpy sashes of purple silk, bound with strings of hammered bronze sequins. Gabriel made a show of looking impressed, though Sam didn’t know why.

"And quite the sandbox it is. So your friend has tastes of a more primal nature, eh?" Snapping his fingers, Bacchus conjured a suckling pig and two more jugs of wine, leaning in to leer at Sam. "Fancy a bite of forbidden fruit?"

Blinking, Gabriel turned from the dancing girls who he had been so enthusiastically clapping and turned to frown at the Roman god. "Was that a come on?"

Sam, feeling that his knife (the weapon at least) was being ignored, and wouldn’t be much use anyway, put it away and crossed his arms. Bacchus pouted, picking up a golden goblet that had snapped in from nowhere and raising it to Sam. "Don’t be shy handsome. When in Rome..." He smirked and Sam resisted the urge to get up and leave. (He still needed Gabriel to get home.) The archangel, meanwhile, was scowling. With a snap of golden fingers, the dancing girls disappeared. In a voice significantly lower and less jovial than moments previous, he said calmly. "I know how you play with your chew toys Baccy. He’s not one of them."

Sam raised both eyebrows. "I’m nobody’s chew toy!"

With a flick of his finger, Bacchus sealed Sam’s lips - physically sealed them with something impossibly sticky that tingled where it met his skin. Jumping to his feet, Sam clawed at his mouth, breathing quickly through his nose. Gabriel leant back in his seat and pouted. "That’s not fair. I just wanted to have some fun."

Another flick of Bacchus' finger and Sam was bound by invisible ropes. He stood, circling a now helplessly jerking Sam. "But my dear, he’s so handsome." Bacchus laid one plump hand firmly on Sam’s chest, stroking it, and Sam wished he could move his features to express his disgust. Men, fine. Attractive men, better. Pagan gods who’d just attacked him, and were now molesting his body? Ixnay on the ands-hay, thanks. "How did you get him, anyway? Indentured servant? Sacrifice?" Bacchus was too close to Sam’s face for comfort, having inexplicably grown several inches in height to be there. His breath reeked of alcohol and flooded the hunter’s nostrils. And then Gabriel was between them, pushing back Bacchus with a gesture which looked gentle but launched him across the room and into a wall with enough force to shake dust from the ceiling. A touch, and Sam was free, gasping and angry. He pulled his gun and Gabriel turned to him, hands raised in appeasement. "Let me handle this."

Sam scowled, and the archangel smirked a little before fighting it back down. "Yes, really." Sam didn’t lower his gun, but he didn't pull the trigger either, which was as much as Gabriel was getting. Academically, he doubted bullets would do much, but he did know they’d make him feel better. At that moment it was tempting.

Gabriel, in the mean time, sighed when Bacchus, eyes glowing purple, rose and raised two hands curled into claws. "Look, this is embarrassing." Bacchus threw something that looked like static energy, Gabriel dodged and the table turned into a dolphin. "There was me, thinking you’d be the perfect diversion to Mr-you-thought-the-cat-was-curious over here." Bacchus threw another ball of energy, Gabriel dodged again. Outside, a man started screaming and running in circles. Sam clenched his jaw but stood his ground, gun trained on the god before he and Gabriel (and since when were they a team?)

"But he’s my date, capiche?"

In spite of there being bigger things to worry about, Sam huffed impatiently. "Gabriel, I'm not your-"

"Ha!" Bacchus interrupted and Gabriel turned to Sam with a face like sour milk. "He rejects your claim, he could be mine!"

Sam shook his head, lowering his gun as things devolved into what was rapidly looking like a supernatural soap opera. "No, Bacchus, I’m not yours either, Gabriel and I are just friends-"

"Whose Gabriel?" Said archangel froze, and Sam felt a little guilty. But then Bacchus raised his eyebrows and simply said. "Was that the name you’d been giving him? Awfully judeo-Christian, isn't it?"

Gabriel shrugged. "What can I say? The kid has faith."

Sam, by now utterly lost, had let down his guard long enough that it came as a really quite unpleasant surprise when Bacchus flashed, out of nowhere, pressed flat against his back with one plump arm around his throat. Suddenly choking, the hunter stared at Gabriel and wondered if that was the point all along, to get him killed in ancient Rome by a handsy wine god. But rather than grin, or laugh, or snap away, Gabriel stood firm and raised both eyebrows. "Baccy, I'm giving you one last chance."

Bacchus yanked at Sam's rapidly crumpling windpipe, to which he managed only a weak squeak of protest. His spine, on the other hand, popped with a loud crack at the unnatural angle into which it was being forced. It could have been a trick of the light, or just the sun’s glare, but Sam thought he saw Gabriel wince.

"If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, don't call me that! Besides, why are you so concerned? He’s just a human, and he’s never had loving like mine."

"By which you mean rape." Gabriel’s voice was flat and his lips were pursed. The fingers of his right hand twitched, like those of a cowboy getting ready to draw in an old Western.

Sam felt his focus drift, black spots clouding his vision in a manner that was all too familiar. He blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake, an effort which was proving to be steadily more futile. The last thing he saw, or thought he saw, was the ghostly light of six golden wings, arching from Gabriel’s back and getting brighter. Then he passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam woke up, Dean was pissed. Also, he had an impressive ring of indigo bruises pressed like a noose around his neck. He took a minute to curse Gabriel, before remembering that he had told neither his brother nor their recently fallen angel of his random soirees. And that it would be far more simple to explain away a strangulation than mysterious unconsciousness for no apparent reason, or another unnaturally long absence. It was far from perfect, or, really, necessary, but Sam had a feeling Gabriel hadn’t been thinking straight, what with the fact that Dean had had the chance to see someone (short blonde asshole, was he the guy who hurt you Sammy?) Sam was just grateful Cas hadn’t been there, which proved irrelevant when said ex-angel woke up an hour later (apparently a millennia  of not needing sleep left you with jetlag like nothing else could.)

He had stumbled into Sam’s room, presumably after hearing Dean’s shouts, and stopped short in the doorway. There, he took in one deep breath and fixed Sam with his blue eyes of soul searching and probable x ray vision. "You stink of angel."

Frowning, Sam got up, steadying himself briefly against the wall and riding out the brief wave of dizziness he’d expected. "I’m sorry, what?"

Cas scowled. "Just because...I may not be able to see your soul any more, tattered rag that it has become." Sam let that one slide, because it was Cas, it was probably true, and really, he knew who was more in the wrong here. "It doesn’t mean I can’t smell the ozone filling your bedroom." The blue eyes of probable x ray vision narrowed. "Have you been copulating with one of my brothers or sisters?"

And didn't that conjure a bunch of mental images? Not least thanks to the DVD of Casa Erotica stashed in Sam’s bag. (He kept it for the brave gesture, not the ensuing porn. Definitely.) Blushing Sam shook his head. "what? No! Definitely not." He stumbled past both Cas and a deeply suspicious Dean, suddenly starving. Gabriel had grabbed him just outside a favourite cafe in town (and yeah, ok, it was kind of sappy how excited he was to be able to find favourite places and visit them regularly.) The fiasco with Bacchus meant he hadn’t eaten since morning the day before. He was starving.

Cas shuffled after him. "Then one of my brethren visited your bedroom for another reason?" His voice lifted at the end in quite sincere confusion. Dean replied while Sam pulled out a box of tomatoes and some bread, shoving the latter in the toaster.

"No, I put him in there. And Sammy isn't dumb enough or mad enough to bring something supernatural back here." The confidence in Dean’s voice made the corners of Sam’s lips quirk. Ah, progress.

Suddenly, Cas’ messy black hair was scratching his chin. The fallen angel tilted his face up, and Sam swore softly, managing to save his thumb from the knife he’d been using to chop tomatoes thanks only to years of training with weapons and sudden foes.

"Why did you put him to bed? Was he ill?" The concerned, kitten like frown creasing Cas’ stoic features quickly laid Sam’s irritation to rest, and he gave the man a small smile.

"Nah, I just passed out."

"By which he means that he was strangled." Sam knew by Dean’s tone that there was quite the glare to accompany it, but he was too busy fishing his toast from the toaster and grabbing a plate to put his breakfast on.

"How do you know he was strangled?"

Sam, who had been liberally applying pepper to the tomatoes on his toast, paused to gesture to the ring of bruises on his throat.

"Yeah, that’s what these mean."

Cas frowned, lifting two fingers before lowering them, looking lost. Which was when Dean clapped his hands and smiled. "Pancakes Cas?"

The had been angel nodded quietly, before speaking again. "So an angel strangled you?"

That made Dean pause, and Sam shook his head, wishing his childhood didn't mean that his brother was as good as his own tailor made lie detector. "No, honestly, I didn't see who it was. Just that someone else stopped them, and then I passed out."

Dean gave a low whistle. "Wow Sammy, someone got the jump on you, and your lying skills just reached a new level of low. You sure that big head of yours is working ok?" It was said snidely, but beneath it Sam could hear his brother’s concern whilst he got down the necessary utensils and ingredients for the pancakes.

Castiel nodded solemnly. "Dean's right Sam, that was much more ineffective than your usual deceptions."

He couldn’t quite help the wince, though he tried to hide it, and regretted it when Cas’ eyes widened like a puppy’s (in a way not dissimilar to his big brother’s.) With a sigh, Sam shoved his plate and cutlery into the sink, walking out of the kitchen, and pushing Cas’ shoulder gently in a brotherly fashion. "I’m going to go work on the library catalogue. You guys enjoy your breakfast."

Behind him, Dean gave a noisy sigh. "And that means he doesn't want to talk about it. Seriously, it's been this way since the kid reached second grade."

Cas made a noise of assent which both Winchesters knew meant he didn't understand what the elder meant. "Dean?"

"Yeah Cas?" There was a tenderness in Dean's tone Sam hadn’t heard since he was 6, which he was fairly sure Dean didn’t think he knew about or that Castiel noticed. Both assumptions were false.

"May I have blueberries in mine?"


	3. The Power You're Supplying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> "And with Lucifer, and not bringing me back till now. Just feels like Dad doesn’t trust me to do what needs to be done. I swear, he still holds a grudge about the whole Australia thing." Catching Sam’s (albeit far more drunken and confused than it seemed) look, Gabriel shrugged. "What? A mammal that lays eggs, Sam! How is that not awesome?"  
> Wobbling, Sam spread his thumb and forefingers over his forehead. "I’m really drunk, aren't I?"
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.
> 
> (The platypus thing is a reference to a cute post on tumblr which you can find here: http://valiantparadox.tumblr.com/post/60878508755 )

"What with all the organic hoo-ha, I half expected you not to like these." Gabriel said it casually, watching with a smirk as Sam gave up on manipulating his chopsticks properly and went for just stabbing the next dumpling. Once he’d swallowed, he smiled.

"What? It's exotic. It's not poisonous, and it tastes good. What’s not to like?"

Gabriel snorted. "I won’t go into the graphic detail. Figures I owe you one."

Sam nearly choked. "You think?" He drank some sake, wincing a little as it burned down his throat and faintly, somewhere in the back of his head: registering that he was well on the way to happy-drunk-Sam, and that he still didn't know why Gabriel was doing any of this. "besides, Bacchus was just a diversion, wasn’t he? Kudos though, summoning a Roman god to change conversation topics? What it lacks in subtlety it makes up for in sheer power. Like a lion or something, you know?"

Gabriel sat back, folding his arms. "You’re chatty when you’re tipsy, did you know that?"

Sam giggled and nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that's why I normally stay away from spirits you know? I mean, enough of me is broken, especially the moral parts. Brain to mouth filter seems all I’ve got left that works right sometimes."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes briefly, then went for a smile. "Great logic you’ve got going there gigantor. That what let you save the world?"

"Nah, don’t be silly." Sam snorted a giggle to himself, finishing his sake. With a snap of Gabriel’s fingers, the cup was refilled. "I just broke everything. Broke the cage, broke my soul, broke my brother."

"I'm not sure Dean would take well to being called broken." Sam snorted again, nodding.

"But that’s part of the problem, you know?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, he broke my brother."

Clarity made its way sluggishly into Sam’s inebriated brain and he frowned, pouting a little. "What, Cas? Dean didn't break him."

Gabriel sighed. "Sammy, if you must insist on playing the blame game then I-"

"No, really, Dean has never hurt Cas, wouldn't. Let alone break him." Sam had sat up now, was leaning forwards and raising his voice. It suddenly seemed very important to let Gabriel know that Dean meant his brother no harm.

The archangel smirked. "I'm sure that’s not how you’d see it, but Castiel Fell for you two, especially Dean."

"No he didn't."

Gabriel’s jaw tensed, and somewhere at the back of his drunken thoughts, Sam realised he was making the man before him angry. So of course he had to open his mouth. "No, no. I mean, he started falling before the apocalypse, but then, after the-the-the," he took a deep breath, recalling with sudden anguish what alcohol did to his ability to repress those memories. He barely noticed Gabriel’s hand on his, light as a feather, or the cold snap of Grace that restored him to his senses. "After the cage, God brought him back, full mojo and everything. And then brought him back again after the leviathan scenario. He never Fell. I mean, if anything, he got pushed."

The sky went dark. It said something about how far Sam had gone that he didn’t notice that, nor the ominous flickering of lights across the restaurant’s expansive roof. Gabriel sat up, straight, and asked very, very quietly.

"By whom?"

"Metatron." Sam frowned, was about to ask, didn't you know this? What did you think happened to your family? But then Gabriel short-circuited Shanghai. And disappeared.

Alone in the restaurant suddenly, Sam frowned into the darkness, and thought that he didn’t remember Gabriel being close to Cas, before. And then he wondered how much else he and Dean didn’t and couldn’t know about the angels before their paths had crossed.

And then he sat, and waited for Gabriel to come back.

            

* * *

 

 

When the archangel returned he was sweaty, his clothes were rumpled and blood stained, and he stank of ozone.

"That piece of rotting, stinking filth dared to use my brother’s essence for a spell! A spell which threw the rest of my family from their home, and condemned them to the soil!"

Sam frowned blearily at the archangel. By this point, everyone else had left. They’d seemed a little afraid to approach him, what with his disappearing, walking EMP of a dining partner. So he’d just sat and drank the rest of his Sake.

"What did you think happened to them?"

Gabriel whirled on the hunter, gorgeous honey eyes now burning a fierce, dangerous gold. Even his skin seemed to be backlit. A fiery branch of lightning outside lit the fleeting shadow of six, enormous, invisible wings. It occurred to Sam, slowly (as all things when he was drunk), that were he sober, he’d probably be afraid. But then the light faded, and Gabriel slumped into his chair, staring at the other man, and spread his hands wide, palms up.

"I didn’t know. I thought that maybe it was the faction, the war. That some had fallen, for their sins and the slaughter, and then the rest fell to join them. A weapon that got out of hand? Thought that Castiel had made a choice. I knew it was a spell, but not...that cowardly pen pushing little vulture..." He fell into silence when the tables started rattling, and breathed slowly.

Sam rolled his lips together, before sticking his tongue out to wet them, and put both big hands over Gabriel’s. the archangel jumped, and he made a sound halfway between a giggle and a snort. Gabriel glared, and tried to pull away with what Sam knew had to be no effort at all (because if Castiel was This strong then Gabriel had to be That strong, and he’d be lying if he said that was neither frightening nor, a little bit, sexy). Gently, Sam’s hands enveloped Gabriel’s, and he met the angel’s eyes.

"S'not your fault."

Petulantly, Gabriel pulled back and turned away, folding his arms. In a rush of wind, both of them were back in an alley now becoming familiar to Sam, not far from their bunker.

"You know nothing of this. Do you know how easy it would have been for me to get rid of that slimy little magpie?" He snapped his fingers, and though it was clearly meant to do nothing, a hum of static buzzed through the air. Sam tilted his head and stumbled.

"Neat."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Then he turned to the wall, raising his fist as if to punch it before simply laying his palm against it and pushing. The bricks began to crumble, like sand. Sam wondered if he was more drunk  than he’d thought.

"And with Lucifer, and not bringing me back till now. Just feels like Dad doesn’t trust me to do what needs to be done. I swear, he still holds a grudge about the whole Australia thing." Catching Sam’s (albeit far more drunken and confused than it seemed) look, Gabriel shrugged. "What? A mammal that lays eggs, Sam! How is that not awesome?"

Wobbling, Sam spread his thumb and forefingers over his forehead. "I’m really drunk, aren't I?"

Indulgently, Gabriel smiled, and Sam wondered how this could be the same being that had only moments ago knocked out a city and, presumably, done away with Metatron.

"You’re kind of like a puppy, you know?"

Sam pouted and Gabriel laughed.

"Really not helping the impression kiddo."

"Stop calling me that! I’m not a kid!" This seemed vital, and Sam spun a little as he tried to emphasise his point. Gabriel, ever nimble, spun out of the way with ease, still smiling. Sam wished he wasn’t so big, and told the archangel so. He laughed and laughed and laughed.

 


	4. A Plague On Your People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> Cas interrupted. "I presume my brother is the one who broke Shanghai?"  
> He had that same look of melancholy he so often wore in the face of earthly misfortune. Sam suspected that it was much easier to distance oneself for millennia when you weren’t inextricably part of the creation continually breaking and dying and renewing itself around you. Dean, in the mean time, had grinned a little (weird, it was almost sappy: Sam had expected an eye roll) and explained. "No, Cas, it was just a powercut, Shanghai is fine."
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.
> 
> Heads up, here begins strong language. There'll be swearing throughout the story, actually. But just so you know.

"So Gabriel’s alive, and you’re dating, and you’ve been keeping it from us for how long?" Sam wanted to respond with several things, (they WEREN’T dating), wondering when exactly Dean and Cas had become an ’Us’ and praying to Gabriel that they had in the romantic sense so he’d stop suffocating by sexual tension. He wasn’t sure, but he might have heard the ghostly echo of a chuckle in his mind. But then maybe that was just the casual interest he’d been nurturing in the archangel continuing to snowball out of control.

Cas interrupted. "I presume my brother is the one who broke Shanghai?"

He had that same look of melancholy he so often wore in the face of earthly misfortune. Sam suspected that it was much easier to distance oneself for millennia when you weren’t inextricably part of the creation continually breaking and dying and renewing itself around you. Dean, in the mean time, had grinned a little (weird, it was almost sappy: Sam had expected an eye roll) and explained. "No, Cas, it was just a powercut, Shanghai is fine."

Castiel frowned, turning to the fossil of a TV Dean had found and bought at a discount store. "That’s not what the news made it sound like." He then looked at Sam. "Is my brother the angel you’ve been sleeping with?"

Sam, who’d just taken a sip of hot, gorgeous, oh-so-good for the morning coffee, nearly choked. His face burned as he replied, "no Cas! I’m not sleeping with Gabriel, or any other supernatural beings. Especially angels."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, and if he did, he’d have to get tested for supernatural std’s considering his track record."

Cas’ frown, which had crumpled his forehead since the mention of Shanghai and showed no signs of smoothing, deepened further. "Angels don’t-"

"Ok, never mind, don’t wanna know." Dean tripped over the words they came out so fast, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he was fairly sure his elder brother was blushing, just a little. Well, wonders never ceased.

Castiel had, apparently, noticed too, because though Dean didn’t- Sam caught a hint of the same smile he’d seen on his brother make its way over the fallen angel’s mouth.

He cleared his throat, and both looked up. "Look, point is, Metatron is dead."

"So?" The response was petulant and immature. Sam frowned, and wished Cas would hurry up and get out of his mortal culture shock puberty phase. But then the had been angel continued. "No really." He turned to Dean, who raised his eyebrows and motioned for him to continue. Cas sighed, and that, right there, that was Sam at 15 and he at least had the good grace to know it. "You can both be extremely slow. It is sometimes a wonder to me that you’ve managed anything at all." Sam scowled, while Dean looked almost hurt, before going for anger instead.

"What the hell?"

Cas smiled at Dean, and raised both eyebrows. "Of course, there is then the fact that between you you stopped the apocalypse, dealt a fatal blow to the leviathan menace, and defeated the plans of demons, angels, and my father himself. And, naturally, that I would die for you, whenever you should require it." This last part was directed at Dean, who was frowning and sort of smiling at the same time. Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably, feeling like he’d just walked into the set of a rom-com. He cleared his throat and stared at his coffee, just in case of sudden-explosions-of-romantic-tension. "Cas, what exactly is your point?"

Cas’ expression fell back into its standard neutrality. Dean sat back in his chair.

"My point is, even with Metatron gone, my brothers and sisters are still fallen. And too busy with the many, many wars between themselves to prioritise returning to heaven."

Dean frowned. "Is that even possible for them? I figured it wouldn’t be."

The muscles at the corners of Cas’ eyes tightened, briefly, and his hand curled into a loose fist. He spoke to it, instead of either Winchester. "I cannot, as I am graceless. But my brothers and sisters have experienced no such loss. There is no longer law in heaven, no enforcers to keep it. Only human souls. Theoretically, it would be perfectly possible for them to return home, should they wish it."

"And should they manage to stop fighting long enough to do it." Sam finished for Cas, and thought of archangels and god, timing and responsibility. Then he struggled to contain a snigger, which got snorted out anyway, thinking of how Gabriel would respond when faced with the authority of the role Sam was beginning to suspect that he had landed. Both Dean and Cas looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Dean said, "you’ve been laughing more. I guess that’s Gabriel’s fault?"

Sam shrugged. "Probably. I guess so."

Dean swore, and when the others looked at him he shrugged too, raising one hand before laying it back down on the counter. "I just really wanted the chance to dislike him first."

      

* * *

 

 

"Saaammy, they keep trying to call me sir." Dean swore, swerving and causing Cas to tumble from the passenger seat and into his shoulder. He swore further, trying to regain control while Gabriel pouted at Sam from where he’d appeared in the back seat. "I’m not a sir!"

Sam sniggered, holding on to the handle above his window. He was about to reply when Cas, freshly rumpled from his tumble into Dean’s lap (definitely not thinking about it) turned to glare at his brother.

"We are breakable now Gabriel! And I cannot fix them, you irresponsible, reckless, asshole!" He took a deep breath, and Sam giggled again when he noticed Dean trying to decide between the road and the sudden novelty of Cas being really, properly angry. Cas reached for Gabriel’s dark green shirt, grabbing a fistful of it and dragging him forwards (which Sam couldn’t help thinking must have been awkward from the front.) "Where the hell have you been?"

Gabriel raised both eyebrows. Castiel’s nostrils flared, and he shook the smaller man. And Gabriel was, Sam realised with abrupt confusion, much smaller than Cas, even human Cas. It was this realisation more than anything else that lead to him leaning forward and gently getting Cas to release the archangel. Gabriel slumped back, and Sam suddenly found himself the unlucky object of two angry, confused angelic stares.

"Uh, Sammy, you know that wasn’t necessary, right?" Gabriel said it with the lazy sarcasm Sam had learnt meant he was irritated. Cas chipped in before he could reply.

"I never interrupt your fights with Dean! I acknowledge them as being necessary moments of private development in the relationship between the two of you." Dean spluttered something between a protest and a snort. Sam resisted, barely, banging his head against the car window, and Gabriel, merrily, tapped his knees and grinned.

Cas levelled a glare at Dean that Sam was sure could have burned actual holes in his skin, angel mojo or not. Then he turned back to Gabriel. Sam didn’t want to see that expression on his friend. Cas’ kitten frown was back, coupled with a mouth sagging low at the sides, and a little too much shine in his bright blue eyes. "Why is it that every angel in heaven thinks we'd get along, and yet you chose him first?" Said with a jerk of his chin at Sam, Cas essentially pouted. Gabriel gave his younger brother his hand, as if to be shaken. In a flap of wings like wet clothes in the wind, they were gone. For a second, Sam grinned at the space where they had been. Then Dean slammed his hands against the steering wheel and pulled over.

"Freakin’ angels man!"

 

* * *

 

"You don’t remember Egypt, do you?"

Castiel went pale- more so than usual, which considering his skin was almost literally as white as snow was quite an achievement. Gabriel leaned against the wall of a particular alley with which he’d become acquainted and braced himself.

"Naomi- I- the children..." Cas trailed off, voice breaking in horror. And then he frowned, staring at his elder brother. "You..?"

Shaking his head quickly, and raising both hands in surrender, Gabriel shook his head. "Oh no, Michael all the way. He gave the orders to Intelligence, if memory serves. By then I’d long since fallen."

Castiel nodded, shoulders slumping, though the frown didn’t leave his face.

"So what’s your point? We both have blood on our hands? I have sinned far more greatly since your passing Gabriel."

"You were manipulated." Cas opened his mouth to protest, and Gabriel held up a hand to stop him, smiling a little. "Have you noticed that no one blames Sam Winchester more for every sin he’s ever committed than Sam Winchester? I mean, let's look at this, shall we?" Gabriel bestowed a blinding smile on Cas’ frown and continued. "Demon blood- who else is, arguably, more responsible than the 6 month old baby that got poisoned?"

"Azazel." Castiel answered automatically, before tilting his head to the side in an angelic gesture he’d yet to shake. "And, arguably, John and Mary Winchester."

"Bingo! So, later, demon blood is more his fault- again. But why’d he go after Lilith? Why’d he start with the blood? And, y’know, release the black sheep of the family?"

"The demon Ruby. Lilith. Uriel and Zachariah." Cas stared at the ground. "Me."

Gabriel laid a gentle hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, snapping the fingers of his free one. A cell phone appeared in his palm and Cas frowned from it to Gabriel. "But also, and far more importantly, he did it because of this." Whilst he spoke, Gabriel had tapped away on the buttons, until he  got to voicemail and rang it.  

An automated female voice intoned: "you have one saved message. To listen to your messages press one, to-" Gabriel pressed one, and Dean’s voice growled into the alley.

"Listen to me you bloodsucking freak. Dad always said I’d either have to save you or kill you. Well I’m giving you fair warning. I’m done trying to save you. You’re a monster, Sam, a vampire. You’re not you anymore, and there’s no going back." There was a beep, and Gabriel hurled the phone at the ground with a satisfied smirk, watching it shatter into pieces. For a long moment, Castiel was quiet.

The first thing he said was: "that was not Dean Winchester." Then."oh Sam." He looked at Gabriel. "When did Sam receive this?"

Gabriel stuck his hands in his pockets. "Right when he was having second thoughts about Lilith. He’d got Ruby to stop the car. Didn’t want to go through with it. And then..." Overhead, the sky that had been overcast rolled with ash grey clouds. Gabriel took a deep breath. "One time I considered stepping onto the chessboard early, as a matter of fact."

Castiel nodded. "So what is the point of this? If it is in reference to Sam’s crushing depression, Dean and I have been attempting to help for some time. We cannot go to a psychologist, Dean says they would suspect the use of hallucinogenic-" Cas stopped when Gabriel held up a hand, chuckling a little.

"Incredibly, little brother, this was about you."

"There was a lot of talking about Sam..." Cas tilted his head. Gabriel blushed, just a little, and the younger,had been angel smirked. "Wait-"

"No! Ok, he was just the best example I had to hand. The point is. In spite of afore mentioned crushing depression, and demons and the devil and hell, does Sam sit around sulking all day?"

Cas gave it a moment of genuine thought. "He does often express what Dean calls his ’bithcface’. I believe the noun is relevant to that verb, though I understood the latter referred only to small children." Gabriel just stared, halfway between exasperation and humour, before shaking his head.

"Ok, start again. Ever heard the phrase ’actions speak louder than words’?" Slowly Castiel nodded. Gabriel took a deep breath (and quietly resisted punching the air in triumph.) "right, well, good actions speak even louder than bad ones." The archangel stopped, because Cas was shaking his head.

"I know little that would out weigh the gravity of my crimes."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "And  feeling sorry for yourself never helped anyone."

Castiel frowned, "is that also a proverbial-"

"Not the point." Gabriel laughed a little at himself. "Ok, no, point is. Sam could have just killed himself, or become a drug addict, or any number of self destructive activities. Could have done any number of things to self flagellate till the cows came home, and you know what that would mean?" Cas looked confused. Gabriel persevered. "It’d mean very little. Because no amount of punishment would ever feel enough, would ever have enough gravity. And you know what? It’d be helping no one but himself. It’d be selfish."

Cas looked disappointed, and Gabriel raised his hand. "No, I'm not trying to belittle your suffering, or Sam’s or anybody’s. I'm just trying to say, and dear Dad I don’t know why it’s so hard, but it’s this: fixing things helps people. Helping others helps you. The whole love thy neighbour thing? Not actually a bad philosophy. You throw your bread on the water, hell, throw a bakery, and it always comes back. Because that’s the point of this world." Gabriel was grinning now, waving his hands, and had hardly noticed the look of unconcealed admiration he was receiving. "It’s all in cycles - families and water and caterpillars and seasons - cycles, renewal, change. To be better than what you were, you must first let go of whatever that was, and that means letting go f everything that goes with it: good and bad. Trade it in for a new model. It’s tricky, don’t lose yourself. Just seize the chance to be the version you want to be this time round. And if that doesn’t work, try again." Gabriel laughed. "Try, love. It’s that simple."

"You’d be a brilliant leader Gabriel."

The archangel wrinkled his nose, winding down. "Brother, but thanks. And Cas?" He slung an arm around his younger brother’s shoulders.

"You didn’t kill anyone in Egypt. That was the first time you met me."


	5. It's Not Denial If You Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> "You, Sammy, free will?" The elder Winchester grinned. "Nobody ever said I was complicated."  
> "That’s true." Gabriel quipped, jumping in and slamming the door. Dean rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t suppress his smile. Sam laughed.
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

Dean looked warily from Cas to Gabriel, both of whom were now smiling. "Did you two have a," he paused, mouth twisting, "heart to heart?"

Sam snorted, and Cas turned to him, holding out a hand.

Confused, Sam took it. Dean, standing between all three and the Impala, stood defensively in front of his baby and watched it all with an expression of frustrated bewilderment.

"You are a good and faithful man, Sam Winchester. In spite of our differences, you should know that I believe that."

Dean scowled, and Sam shifted uneasily from one foot to the the other. Gabriel giggled. "Cas, I have to teach you deadpan humour. You’d make it a damn art."

Slowly, Cas turned to his elder brother and raised one eyebrow."Don’t I already?"

Gabriel snorted, and Dean looked deeply unsettled.

"Ok, so that sounds like a truce. Now lets get back in the car and return to acting like regular people."

Sam smirked, clapping Dean on the shoulder. "Right, two resurrected hunters, one ancient but also new born man, and an archangel. Totally regular."

Dean frowned. "Driver makes the rules." He smiled a little, surprised to see both Sam and Cas grinning back, for once. "It’s as close as we’re ever gonna get."

Castiel climbed into the passenger seat, flashing Dean an even wider smile before Gabriel and Sam got in. "You love it like this though."

Dean huffed, and Sam opened the door.

"You, Sammy, free will?" The elder Winchester grinned. "Nobody ever said I was complicated."

"That’s true." Gabriel quipped, jumping in and slamming the door. Dean rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t suppress his smile. Sam laughed.

       

* * *

 

 

"I think I could make a legal case for you stalking my brother."

Gabriel shrugged, continuing to mark up errors in the men of letters’ library with a red pen (and occasionally drawing penises and fake moustaches on random drawings, much to Sam’s chagrin.)

"Dean, you should leave the law stuff to Sam. Thinking so hard doesn’t suit that pretty face of yours."

Dean pulled up a chair, and Gabriel continued to try and ignore him. "Face it Gabe, you’re obsessed."

The archangel pouted. "No, I’m not Dee Dee."

"The hell kind of a nickname is that?"

Gabriel gave a beatific smile, snapping the book shut. "A pretty one."

Dean glared. "I am trying so freaking hard to let you in, to trust you-"

"Succeeding." Gabriel interrupted, pushing his chair back and propping his feet on the table. Dean resisted the urge to tell him off, in case Gabriel went back to calling him ’Mama Duck’.

"You’re succeeding in making me feel welcome, and I have to assume your letting me in here shows your trust, too."

"You’re worse than Sam."

Big grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Dean shook his head, though he was starting to smile, too. "Look, you're not that bad. I mean- we’ve all got crap on our ledgers. Figure you're not doing so badly, all things considered. Not any more."

"It’s you Dean, so I’m sure there’s a point somewhere." Gabriel was now tipping his chair back, staring at the ceiling fan.

Dean scowled. "What are your intentions towards my brother?"

The archangel choked. "I’m sorry?"

"Sam. Gigantor. Really tall."

Gabriel was blushing now. Well, he wasn't. Obviously. He was scandalous, king of scandals, he didn't blush like some human virgin. His cheeks were just red for no apparent reason. Definitely.  "Yes, I know who he is. What are you talking about? Intentions? I have none, if they are of the romantic and sexual breed I believe you’re insinuating. No intentions. None at all. Intent-less."

Dean gave his best shit-eating grin. "Weren’t you the Norse god of lies or something?"

Gabriel’s blush deepened. Castiel walked in to sit opposite the two of them. "And if I remember correctly, he’s a lover, not a fighter, at least when he’s drunk on Ambrosia in ancient Egypt."

"Hey! I gave you those memories, you can go back to being a lightweight and clueless any time I want."

Cas smiled, folding his hands in front of him. "You wouldn’t though."

Sitting straight, Gabriel swore. "Maybe you’re right about that. But you’re wrong about this. I have no designs or intentions or- where is he, anyway?"

Dean grinned. "At the store. Wondered how long it’d take you to ask. Cas." With a flourish, Castiel drew a cake from under the table, and took off the lid. It was chocolate, mixed with raspberries and strawberries, and covered in cream, marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles. Gabriel looked like a dying man.

"You tell us what you’re planning for Sam, you get the cake. Might even get some advice."

Desperately, Gabriel turned his puppy eyes on Castiel, who stared back with his default solemnity. After a few more minutes of having no effect whatsoever, Gabriel pouted."This is childish. I owe you no secrets, and I wouldn’t trade mine for cake." On which note he snapped out of existence. The cake went with him.

Dean grinned at Cas. "You were so right."

Cas turned his still sincere features on the Winchester. "I often am, you know."

            

* * *

 

 

"Would you stop following me? Seriously, I'm embarrassed for both of us. Don't you have a civil war to be fighting?"

“Eh, I’d rather not.” Gabriel scowled at the young angel before him, hands tucked deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. His fellow lunar angels had always been a little…harder to control. Spreading his palms wide, Gabriel shrugged.

“Khariel, what is it, exactly that you expect from me?”

Khariel shrugged. “Not much. Just to take us home. Keep us out of trouble in the mean time.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Us?” Two more angels stepped out of the tree line along which Gabriel had been walking. He swore. In his day, Norway had actually lived up to its reputation of relative emptiness. Times were changing, as always. He grinned a little to himself, then frowned at the young angels before him. “I’m sorry kids, but you all shed your down millennia ago. I’m not your babysitter.”

An angel wearing the body of a small, black woman stepped forwards. “No. You’re our brother.”

“And I left you!” Gabriel didn’t mean for his voice to rise, but it did anyway. Human habits got harder to shake the longer you spent on Earth. “I walked out, don’t you remember that? I had enough of Heaven.”

Sachiel, the angel that had spoken, gave him a soft smile. “It’s sort of our job to forgive you, you know.”

“I don’t need or want your forgiveness!”

Gabriel whirled away, snapping out of existence and back into it again in the Himalayas. A flurry of wing beats followed, and Dad help him because in spite of his frustration, that sound was home, and his heart ached for it.

Khariel, Sachiel and their friend, an angel Gabriel thought he recognised as Hanael, all smiled at him. “No, but as we understand it, you want your own.”

Gabriel snorted, still going for bravado. “Yeah, well, don’t see how getting bogged down with a bunch of fledglings is going to help with that.”

Hanael ruffled her feathers; Gabriel could see them on the 13th dimension, and he smirked. “No offense Han.”

“We don’t want to fight.” Sachiel interrupted before Hanael got too annoyed. Gabriel turned to her. “We don’t want to fight, or die. We’re sick of this war, and the blame and the destruction.” Khariel stared at his feet, a little embarrassed, though he didn’t object. Sachiel reached for Gabriel’s arm, and he didn’t pull away. “We’re not asking you to fight for us. We’re just asking for you to be our brother again. This world is so different when one can walk its streets. So much more complicated, maddening in fact.” She gave a soft laugh. “We don’t want to hurt people. We don’t want to slaughter our brothers and sisters. We just want to be good.”

And damn if that didn’t remind him of a certain Winchester. Huffing, Gabriel looked from one angel to the next. All three met his gaze unflinchingly. Eventually, he sighed. “Alright, we’re going to need some ground rules. And this is not permanent.”


	6. When Is It Ever A Lake Monster?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> The wolf screamed, a howl that trailed into a whimper. It was uncomfortably close to the sound of a dog in pain, but right at that moment Sam didn’t care. He grit his teeth and he twisted his knife and he thought, ‘you monster, you didn’t care if he screamed.’ Which was the very moment at which it occurred to him that maybe this, this twisted mess of righteousness and parallels and spending too long with blood on his hands, maybe this was what got Gabriel into his trickster business in the first place. Sam also realised, with an uncomfortable jolt, that he forgave the archangel that, too.
> 
>  
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

Three weeks later, Gabriel was in the back of the Impala, feet propped up behind Castiel’s headrest.

“Oh hey, he lives!” Dean’s voice dripped sarcasm. Sam snorted and refused to meet the archangel’s gaze.

“How’s the nest?”

“What?” Gabriel looked from Sam to Dean and then Cas, who shrugged.

“You were gone for a week with no message. Sam was starting to worry. So I told them what Khariel told me. Gossip spreads fast, you know.”

“And it’s not like you could tell us yourself.” Sam growled the words petulantly at his car window. Gabriel rolled his eyes, getting onto his knees on the car seat and turning to the younger Winchester. Dean turned up the radio.

“Come on kiddo, I thought you wanted me to take responsibility?”

Sam frowned, still fixed on the really pretty boring, arid landscape outside. “I did.”

Gabriel threw up his hands. “Ok, so what’s the problem?”

“Never heard of multi-tasking, oh powerful archangel?”

“Really, we’re going there?” Gabriel leaned across Sam’s lap, turning his head and trying not to focus on his lips. “Come on Sam, look at me.”

In spite of himself, Gabriel saw Sam’s mouth jump at the corners. He grinned. “You know you want to?”

Blushing a little, Sam turned and met his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. I just. I was worried. Not much, just, you know, a bit.”

Gabriel raised both eyebrows. “You know I’m one of the most powerful beings currently in existence?”

Sam raised his eyebrows back, and damn, Gabriel could see what Dean meant about the bitchface. “You remember how you died once already, right?”

“At the hand of Lucifer. A couple of hormonal angels I can handle.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Raphael couldn’t.”

Gabriel took a deep breath, settling back into his seat. In the front, Castiel went very still. “Yeah, well, he didn’t have my ability to think outside the box. Or several thousand years of being bunk mates with corruption to give him tips.”

“Just, don’t get too confident, ok?”

Gabriel let out a long sigh. “Geez, ok mum, anything else? Did you make me cookies? Should I take my vitamins?” Sam snorted, and Gabriel gave him a small smile back. Castiel relaxed.

“So, you’re nesting?”

Gabriel went bright red. “Really Cas? Not quite the appropriate verb.”

Castiel shrugged. “It’s functional.”

“I wouldn’t call it nesting. I mean, none of them are mine. And they’re all big angels, even if they refuse to remember it. It’s kind of like a pound for fallen angels.”

“Or a sanctuary.” Cas interjected. “That’s what Khariel made it sound like. How big is that mansion, anyway?”

“As big as I need it be?”

Sam looked impressed, and Gabriel couldn’t miss the opportunity, waggling his eyebrows. “Not the only part of me that can be, kiddo.”

Sam made a sound between a laugh and a groan. “Not the mental image I was looking for Gabriel.” In the front, Dean turned the radio louder and refused to look at anyone, blushing at the road.

“So, can we meet them?”

Gabriel frowned, forgetting what they’d been talking about for a moment. When he remembered, he shook his head. Sam looked disappointed, before trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, ok. They probably wouldn’t want to meet the Winchesters. Especially not the boy with the demon blood.”

Cas winced. “Sam, you know-“

Sam held up a hand. “No, it’s ok Cas, I get it.”

Gabriel looked between the two of them, twisting his mouth sideways in mock embarrassment. “Ah, no you don’t. Remember what I said a few minutes ago about human corruption? Well, it latched onto freedom and came to the angels too, kind of like disease. I trust most of my new adoptees, but not all of them. And humans tend to be much more breakable than our kind. I’d just like to know it’s safe before I take you on a guided tour. Avoid a Jurassic park situation.” Sam smirked, nodding. In the front, Dean frowned at the rearview mirror.

“How do you know they’re safe now?”

“I gave some of the more trustworthy ones some favorite toys of mine.” Gabriel grinned at Sam and Castiel’s questioning looks. “What? I’m an _arch_ -angel, remember? My power isn’t reserved to my stunning good looks.” Castiel smirked, turning back to the front seat. Sam just frowned.

“Meaning, you have some super powerful weapons?”

Gabriel examined his nails. “Powerful. I wouldn’t say super powerful. That sounds so dramatic.”

They pulled into a small town, and Dean cleared his throat. “Alright Gabe, zip up your pants. I’m sure Sam’s very impressed, now we have a case to work. “ Gabriel opened the car door, grinning, and Sam blushed.

“Oh goodie, can I come?” Castiel and Dean exchanged looks. Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Oh dad, you’re actually starting to act like an old married couple.”

“Dean and I have not exchanged-“ Castiel began, deadpan as ever, but Dean interrupted.

“Yeah, he knows. You can come, but only if you promise not to act like an idiot.”

Gabriel pouted. “You know so little of me. So, what are we hunting?”

“Lake monster, I think.”

Gabriel snorted. All three men frowned at him, and he shrugged. “Sorry, but come on, when was the last time any of you hunted a lake monster that turned out to be what you thought it was? My bet’s on a ghost. Or a pack.”

“Alright smartass. You follow that up. We’ll go check out the weird drag marks and fallen trees around the edge of the lake.” Dean turned and began to walk away. Sam and Cas followed, with Gabriel skipping along behind.

“Oh no meatloaf, I’m not letting you out of my sight. Can’t wait to say ‘I told you so’.”

                                     

* * *

 

Gabriel was right. Sam decided that was cheating. It wasn’t their fault he was at least a thousand years older than even Cas, and kind of created to be better than angels, let alone human beings. That being said, at least he was saving the ‘I told you so’s for after they’d finished the werewolf pack.

The werewolf pack that had been hunting in this forest for nearly three hundred years, covering up their nocturnal activities by creating the fiction of a lake monster (complete with woodcuts, the occasional news article in which wolves posed as witnesses, and finally, in their boldest move, actually opening a tourist attraction.) Sam would respect them a lot more if it weren’t for their habit of slaughtering innocent men, women and children. As it was, he was just pissed.

And yeah, he should probably be more concerned about the fact that there were now a dozen monsters chasing him and his friends around a forest that they’d been haunting for centuries, but all Sam could actually think about was the 6 year old boy, who’d begged his mum to take him on the ‘Midnight monster walk.’ Of how the tour guide must have looked that kid in the eye, lying to him all the while, left him lost. Of the tattered body, and the mother who committed suicide three days later. Of wide eyed curiosity, innocence. Of finding out suddenly, helplessly, that there really were things that went bump in the night.

The wolf screamed, a howl that trailed into a whimper. It was uncomfortably close to the sound of a dog in pain, but right at that moment Sam didn’t care. He grit his teeth and he _twisted_ his knife and he thought, ‘you monster, you didn’t care if he screamed.’ Which was the very moment at which it occurred to him that maybe this, this twisted mess of righteousness and parallels and spending too long with blood on his hands, maybe this was what got Gabriel into his trickster business in the first place. Sam also realised, with an uncomfortable jolt, that he forgave the archangel that, too.

He was stuck enough in this realisation that he nearly noticed too late the pair of creatures cornering Gabriel. Nearly. But Sam had been a hunter all his life, and old habits are hard to shake when they’re life saving. The golden man smirked at the one, not noticing the other creature behind him, stealing the high ground in the shadows at his back. Sam was too far to know a throw would do the trick. And if he got Gabriel out of the way, the likelihood was that both monsters would take them while they were distracted.

There was really one thing for it. Everything slowed down – Sam knew the feeling and welcomed it, as his mind fought rapidly to catalogue everything it might need to ensure its survival into the immediate future. In his peripheral vision, Sam caught a pair of figures stumbling out of the forest and onto the opposite shore, back to back and shooting wildly. Then he ran.

The werewolf leapt, and in a sun bright glare of golden light, Gabriel dispatched its partner. He whirled, having heard Sam’s movement, still glowing with power. And he saw a wolf, bigger even than his hunter, land on the man with a thump. Both man and wolf screamed, and fell with a thud onto the earth. Gabriel stared for just a second, before he shoved away the wolf’s corpse with a crunch of bones turning to powder. There was a sickening squelch as its claws, which had been embedded deeply in Sam’s chest, were dragged sideways. Gabriel swore at his own impatience and had the good grace (no pun intended) to pretend not to notice Sam’s choked whimper. On the other side of the lake, a crackle of gunshot like fireworks reached across the sudden silence. Then that, too, fell quiet.

Gabriel took three deep breaths – which were totally unnecessary but which he had found, in his time on earth, to be calming anyway. Then he pressed his hands against Sam’s chest and gave him a soft smile. Sam choked a laugh.

“If you say…I told you so….I swear-“

Gabriel pretended to consider it. “It would be well within my rights. As would telling you that you’re an idiot, and trying, once again, to hammer into your thick skull that I am an archangel. A werewolf couldn’t kill me, even if it wanted to.”

Sam’s eyes had fluttered halfway to shut as Gabriel spoke, and in spite of himself: in spite of the fact he _knew_ he could fix this, and that things would be ok, all the trickster could think of were Castiel’s words. _“We are breakable now, Gabriel!”_ So he grabbed Sam’s freakishly large hands and squeezed them tight. Sam blinked awake again, frowning up at him, and Gabriel felt a little dizzy at the role reversal.

“It could snap your neck. Seen that happen.” He went pale, shuddering, and Gabriel didn’t know if it was horror or pain and wished it was neither. Weakly, Sam pushed against Gabriel’s hands, and the archangel let him, though in this state the force felt to him like something less than a butterfly. One big, warm, slightly sticky hand pressed against his neck. “All I could think of.” Sam cleared his throat. His blood gleamed in the moonlight. “I know you could fix yourself. But I want you whole.” His frown deepened, mouth pushing into what was almost a pout, and Gabriel wanted to tease him but couldn’t because he knew it was pain: it was pain doing this, dizzying him, making him say things he may otherwise keep to himself. “And I like your neck. S’pretty.”

The gun sharp sound of twigs snapping had Gabriel whirling, unfurling his immaterial wings and letting a touch of his true self come through, enough to frighten caution into any lesser being. The lake rolled into sudden turbulence, in spite of the night’s calm. Castiel jumped in front of Dean, throwing his arms over his eyes and shouting, angrily. “Gabriel, you’ll blind us!”

Calming, Gabriel refused to look sheepish, turning back to Sam, whose eyes had fallen shut once more. With a clumsy, loud stomping of feet, Dean half marched, half ran to join them. He glared at Gabriel. “What the hell happened here?” Gabriel opened his mouth to explain, but Dean didn’t give him the chance. “What the hell? You’re supposed to be the damn archangel! Why didn’t you have his back? Why didn’t you heal him? What kind of a freaking – I bet you stood back and watched just for kicks. Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?” Gabriel shut his eyes, though he was well aware the burn of them leaked between his eyelashes.

He heard, vaguely, Castiel’s soft murmur of “Dean.” And then he ignored both of them entirely, focusing instead on the way his vessel’s hands were dwarfed by Sam’s wounds, focusing on what that had done to what lay beneath this little, imperfect temple of flesh his father had fashioned for his favourite part of creation.

When Sam woke up, Dean was there. So was Castiel. But Gabriel was gone.


	7. Sticks and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> There was a scream of electric guitar, and Gabriel skidded onto the stage out of thin air in MC Hammer pants, a silver thread vest and more gel, makeup and glitter than could be considered healthy. He grabbed a microphone that popped up out of nowhere, letting his jagged pink guitar hang on its shoulder strap, and shouted. “Angel Island!!! Let me hear you screeeeaaaam!”
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

“You’re an asshole.”

Dean did at least have the presence of mind to look ashamed. Castiel stood to the side and said nothing, Sam knew that the once angel was with him on this.

“What was I supposed to do Sammy? You’re saying with all his freakin’ archangel mojo, he couldn’t do what I’ve done as a human for all my damn life?”

Sam pulled a deep breath of air through his nostrils, gritting his teeth.

“I told you, it was my fault. I got in the way. Gabriel didn’t even know. And then he healed me anyway.”

Dean shook his head, poking petulantly at his pancakes. Sam could already feel his anger falling. He knew his brother like himself, had done for a very long time. And he knew that this anger was just a cover for his shame and wounded pride, only exacerbated by his being wrong about the werewolf/ lake monster debacle. In fact, he was ready to leave it at that. Except.

“I just think it’s dodgy. I mean lets be honest, you’ve got a crap history of loving and trusting monsters, and it always get us into a shitload of trouble.”

To Sam’s utter surprise, it was Castiel who butted in, shoulders rising and spine straightening in a movement Sam had come to mentally sketch wings around. He imagined that now, if Cas still had them, he’d have spread his wings. Sam didn’t have the heart to think too hard on what it must feel like, to be missing limbs so clearly essential to what and who Cas knew himself as.

“Will there ever be a time when you stop using your brother’s mistakes in misguided and unjust attempts to gain the moral high ground?” Cas’ usually gravelly voice was all but a growl. Dean stared.

“He made his choices. He takes the blame.”

“Oh, so jumping into the cage with Lucifer and Michael was what you would call a ‘walk’ in the ‘park’” Cas’ clumsy inverted commas were all but claws, and he got right into Dean’s personal space as he said it. Sam wondered if he should leave.

Dean opened his mouth to reply but Cas continued, venomously. “What if I told you, as the only one who saw and could compare both, that what you suffered – what still tortures you at night and in the day when you think that no one notices.” Dean frowned, and Sam could almost see his brother shutting mental doors. Sam opened his mouth to stop their angel but Cas pressed on regardless. “What if I told you that that was a summer _holiday_ compared to what Sam went through. Let alone how he feels about going soulless. What if I told you that in spite of my _surgically removing the symptoms of his trauma,_ an act, may I remind you, that drove me _insane_ , he still remembers. He remembers everything. He is, as we have discussed several times, clinically depressed. That’s an illness, Dean. You’re his brother. Start acting like it.”

Dean stared for a few moments longer at Castiel, and then he stood, walking out without a word. Cas stared after him for a moment longer, and then he twitched. Sam waited for a moment, and Cas twitched again, clenching his fists, before letting out a long line of expletives and clutching his head in his hands.

Sam stepped back, ready to leave and give his friend some space. His own name stopped him. Cas was staring, his expression so naked Sam felt embarrassed for both of them.

“I have hurt him, haven’t I?”

Sam considered lying, and realised that he couldn’t. Not to Cas. Not when it came to Dean. He nodded. “Yeah.”

Cas shook his head, huffing something like a laugh. “I take his corner, I break you. I take yours, I break him.” He pursed his lips, staring at the pancakes on the corner before cocking his head at Sam with a frown.  “I do not remember morality being this hard. As an angel it’s-was black and white. But you.” The frown deepened. “You see all the shades of grey. It makes it so difficult to do what is right. Why is that?”

Sam frowned. He wasn’t sure if Cas actually wanted an answer, but he gave it his best shot anyway. “I guess-the way I always figured, it means more that way. If it wasn’t difficult, it wouldn’t have the same weight.”

Cas stared some more, and Sam turned to leave. He couldn’t bear the intensity of that gaze. Not with all the things he’d done.

                                             

* * *

 

 

Gabriel was not, in fact, even half as angry as either Winchester or Castiel thought he was. Sure, he was pissed. He had briefly entertained dying the Impala bright pink and installing white fluffy seats. Then he’d decided against it. It was probably a bad thing that, as an archangel, he could be dissuaded from his course of action by the mere thought of the puppy eyes that would be directed upon him by Cas and Sam if he went through with it. Sad but true.

Still, the real reason he’d not yet gone back had nothing to do with grudges held or otherwise (and Gabriel rarely stayed angry for long.) It was more the fact that he was experiencing trouble in paradise.

Not actual paradise. His collection of genii, heroes and heroines were doing pretty well in heaven. Matter of fact, with his sporadic help, they’d commenced a realm wide renovation. And Gabriel couldn’t help thinking, every time he went back, that heaven was more like it should always have been. No, in spite of the metaphor, the trouble was very much earth bound.

When the first of the fallen, Khariel, Sachiel and Hanael had found him, Gabriel had whipped up a mansion on an island for them, complete with one hell of a library and games various, food enough to feed an army, and left them to it. Sometimes he went back, mostly to smash Khariel’s high score on every game in the house (and definitely not, just a little bit, to make sure that the brother and two sisters he was growing increasingly fond of were alright.) Over time, they’d accumulated friends. Then those friends had become a small mob. Now, there was a ramshackle village being built on the island. Gabriel insisted on calling it a village in spite of the size because there was not yet a commercial establishment or a church, so technically it wasn’t a town. Also, accepting he was pseudo mayor of a town of fallen angels was on the scary side of responsible. So he pretended it wasn’t happening.

And that he definitely wasn’t sitting in what was maybe possibly becoming his office. Ew.

Khariel slumped opposite, leather jacket and ripped jeans, looking like he’d just walked off the set of Grease. Gabriel liked him.

“Yup, an actual mob. They say they should use their powers to perform a righteous purge.” Sachiel, on the other side of the door, was more neatly dressed, though still more human looking than most of the fallen in their awkward attire.

“Perhaps Naomi changed them too much. It seems that whether it is against their brothers, sisters, or creation itself, they are intent on violence of one form or another.” Gabriel munched on a handful of chocolate counters and looked at his sister appraisingly. She was one of very few who had spilt no blood at all in this war. He respected her for that.

Khariel shrugged, and after a moment, Gabriel sat up, taking his feet off his desk.

“You know the real reason for this?”

Raising both eyebrows, Khariel huffed a sigh. “Enlighten us, oh great and powerful master.” After the first week or so, Khariel had responded to Gabriel’s consistent rejection of terms of respect with a teenager-esque, sardonic act of totally the opposite. Gabriel kind of loved it, especially because it told him that his brother knew something, if not much, about the truth of humanity: the little frivolities and imperfections, not just the acts in the big picture.

“They’re not used to human corruption.”

Sachiel huffed a surprised laugh. “That’s not what they’re saying.”

Gabriel smirked, pulling a lollipop out of thin air and sucking on it. “Well of course not. They’re angels.” He waggled his eyebrows. “They think they’re always right. They are, of course, wrong. I am always right.” Both Khariel and Sachiel folded their arms. Gabriel laughed. “Oh ye of little faith.”

Then he pushed past them. He had a project to start.

Three hours later, there was a stage set up outside the mansion. A crowd of several hundred fallen angels were in what had become a mock up of a town square. Khariel and Sachiel were standing with arms folded, looking distinctly uncomfortable against the side of the stage. Hanael, their next closest sister, was rhythmically banging her head against a nearby wall, or had been when Sachiel stopped her.

There was a scream of electric guitar, and Gabriel skidded onto the stage out of thin air in MC Hammer pants, a silver thread vest and more gel, makeup and glitter than could be considered healthy. He grabbed a microphone that popped up out of nowhere, letting his jagged pink guitar hang on its shoulder strap, and shouted. “Angel Island!!! Let me hear you screeeeaaaam!”

The fallen angels stood, quiet and perplexed. Above, a gull squawked. Gabriel rolled his eyes, strumming out a fair guitar solo and launching into ‘Living on a prayer’. He finished, breathless. The crowd stood still. With a heavy sigh and a snap of his fingers, the guitar disappeared, and he was wearing his more usual attire – canvas jacket, jeans and a shirt (albeit a shirt with bright orange, Hawaiian flower print.)

“Ok. I hear you’re a bunch of war mongerers.” The angels shuffled at that. More than a few glared at Khariel, Sachiel and Hanael. “But that’s ok.” Gabriel smiled. “Cos lets be honest, you were made to be an army, and you have lived a few millennia with monumental sticks up your –“ A buzz of static censored the next word. Gabriel pouted at Hanael, who rolled her eyes right back. “Point is, I get it. You’ve got tension. You need to loosen up.” Gabriel paced as he talked, hands moving in wide, emphatic gestures. “And you’ve figured that righteous spilling of blood is the way to go. Well, ok. That’s very Old Testament of you. I get it, you’re going for the classics. But.” And here he paused, standing a little straighter. “Here’s the deal. You spill one drop of human blood, you’re off this island. Don’t expect me to be there for you.” Gabriel beamed. “Unless you’ve got a good reason, and you can explain.”

One of the angels shouted from the crowd. “But lord” (Gabriel winced) “there are so many. We could help the humans who need help.” Another angel chipped in.

“Get rid of the perverted. Those beyond salvation. The murderous.”

More voices joined in.

“They rape women in groups!”

“They beat their children!”

“Beat their lovers!”

“They war!”

“They torture!”

“They murder the innocent!”

Gabriel pinched his forehead between thumb and forefinger, and seriously considered leaving them to it. Then he thought of Lucifer, and Sam Winchester, and backbones. He stamped one foot, on all 13 dimensions, and the movement of his true form resonated through the crowd like a shockwave. “Ok. You ever heard this parable? It’s about a woman whose committed adultery. She’s about to be stoned to death, and Jesus Christ – anyone remember him? Dreamy, wasn’t he?” Gabriel grinned fondly, before his smile fell. He glared down at the crowd. “He said whoever could claim they had committed no sin could throw the first stone.” He let that sink in for a moment before pressing on. “And you know what? Everybody walked away. So lets play a game. Who, here, has murdered another angel – a brother or sister?” He stuck his hand into the air. The fallen angels were still for a moment. Then Khariel raised his hand, as did Hanael. A few more in the crowd did, and then there were dozens. Many stared at Sachiel, one of the only, by the end, who had not. Gabriel beamed. A sea of faces that appeared nauseous or constipated looked miserably back. “Aaand who here has killed a human?” The few hands which had been down, including Sachiel’s, were lifted. “Who, here, honestly, has killed a living thing that was totally innocent?” His hand was aching from being up for so long, but Gabriel didn’t care. He just stared, calmly, at the crowd before him. “Ok. So who throws the first stone?” He grinned, shrugged, waved his hand. “Because I don’t. Not by a long shot.”

The angels were silent. The sea rolled and crashed against the rocks around the island. Gabriel took a deep breath, lowering his hand and rolling his shoulders. Then he snapped his hands. All the angels found themselves, suddenly, in lurid outfits and baseball caps, with cameras and notebooks strung around their necks. Several t-shirts read ‘I <3 Tokyo’. They looked like any obnoxious, awkward bunch of tourists you’d find anywhere. Khariel, sporting a bright pink and orange outfit, glared at his brother. Gabriel just grinned as the angels looked awkwardly at one another, picking at the fabrics now on their borrowed bodies. A few stared at the camera cases around their necks as if they held the secrets to the universe. They looked, in that moment, more like Cas than they had yet. And Gabriel would be lying if that didn’t light something a little like pride inside him.

He clapped his hands, the sound amplified by his microphone, and beamed at the angels.

“Ok. Time for a field trip. Khariel, Sachiel and Hanael are going to be your tour guides. Today, you are going to go around the world. And you are going to take pictures, and take notes. And then you’re going to come back and show each other what you’ve found. The only rule is: it has to be good.” Gabriel smiled. “Go look, really hard, at the goodness of humanity. At the greatness of our father’s creation. Then come back and talk about it.”

He turned to leave, before spinning back on one foot. “Oh, right. Overdue assignments mean expulsion from the island.” There was a murmuring of horror, and Gabriel grinned. “Good luck!”

Khariel, Sachiel and Hanael glared at him. Gabriel dropped them a wink, and put a message in their minds.

_Any trouble, call me. You know how. Xoxo_


	8. Live and Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> “It’s always the quiet ones Sammy.”  
> Sam smirked at his laptop. “So I ought not to hold out hope for you.”  
> Gabriel blinked, unable to contain his smile. “I’m just confident and comfortable in my sexual prowess. Much healthier that way, you ought to try it sometime.”
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

Not all of the angels came back. Several, by the end of that day alone, had found themselves places and gotten started with hospices, charities, and emergency relief efforts. They’d joined the humans as meek volunteers. Gabriel flitted around, making sure they were doing what they said they were. When he found out it was true, he was both proud and suddenly, in spite of himself, concerned. It was a rare emotion for him to experience, but he did now, and realised abruptly that having the angels on the island, annoying as it could get, had meant he could keep an eye on them. Now it was different. He cast spells on those who’d gone their own way- concealment and warnings.Then he’d demanded (in a totally casual, not concerned at all way) that Khariel and Sachiel keep an eye on them.

Khariel had snorted. “You’re like a mother hen, oh mighty one.”

Gabriel stuck his tongue out and waited. After a few more seconds, Khariel heaved a heavy sigh. Sachiel just smiled, laying her hand gently on Gabriel’s arm.

“Of course we will.”

Then they went into the movie theatre Gabriel had fabricated just for that evening, and watched the presentations. Some had really missed the point. (Most cringe worthy moment was probably the angel that insisted self flagellation was the best thing about humanity. He and Gabriel had had to have words.) But a lot of them got it. A lot of them seemed surprised by that. Gabriel ate three buckets of toffee popcorn and a stick of candy floss as big as he was while Hanael stared. Then, at 5am, once it was done (they’d had to keep the presentations very short, though it helped that what was left of the different garrisons had worked together) Gabriel got onto the stage.

“Alright. Today you rest. Tomorrow, part two. You go out, and you put what you’ve learnt into action. Acts of random kindness. You’re angels, start acting like it.”

An angry redhead, whose presentation had been a half hearted one about attempts to use renewable energy, spoke up from the sleepy crowd. “Isn’t this a bit hypocritical, Gabriel? Didn’t you punish them for millennia?”

In a flap, Gabriel was right in front of her. She was a foot taller than him, but that really didn’t matter. He spread all six of his wings, and the angels in the room stumbled back. His sister stood her ground, though she didn’t look happy about it.

Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “That’s very true.” He spoke softly. “I won’t deny it. But you know what, genius?” He poked her shoulder, and she flinched back. Gabriel shrugged. “I’ve changed. I’ve recognised that that was a mistake, and I’ve learned.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And if I have to drag all of you, kicking and screaming into enlightenment, then I will.”

He took another step forwards, letting his true self leak in shafts of gold through the crowded theatre. The angels held their breath, and he reached out for his sister. She flinched, but Gabriel kept moving.

He hugged her. At first she was stiff with fear, but then she relaxed. Shutting his eyes, Gabriel let his grace wash over hers, and kissed her forehead. She stared at him as if she were a fledgling again, and he’d just helped her to fly. Gabriel shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, but managed a smile. “just try, ok?”

Dumbly, she nodded. All the angels were staring, and it was a bit too close to chick flick to be ok for Gabriel. So, in a snap, he was gone. They’d be ok. He’d done enough for now.

                                    

* * *

 

 

Thus began what Dean would later refer to as Gabriel’s Hunting Honeymoon. It began, ironically enough, with his snapping in on said elder Winchester and sweet, innocent Castiel making passionate love. In another snap, he had joined Sam at the diner down the road. He definitely didn’t look flustered. He was the god of tricks, and lies. He’d made the Aesir blush.

Sam took one look at him and snorted, typing something on his laptop.

“You should have been there on day one.” He tilted his head to the side, looking pensive. “Cas broke Dean’s nose. I’m not sure they know the world still exists.”

Gabriel let out a huff he hoped was bravado and waved over the waitress.

“Mocha please. With vanilla syrup, extra chocolate sprinkles and whipped cream. Ooh, and marshmallows.” The woman stared, and Gabriel grinned right back till she left. “It’s always the quiet ones Sammy.”

Sam smirked at his laptop. “So I ought not to hold out hope for you.”

Gabriel blinked, unable to contain his smile. “I’m just confident and comfortable in my sexual prowess. Much healthier that way, you ought to try it sometime.”

Sam shrugged and hummed a non-committal noise, before shutting his laptop and grinning at the archangel over a sudden sugary monstrosity in the space between them.

“Barks, bites, archangels.” He took a sip of espresso. Gabriel choked.

“Are you sassing me? Is the great scholar, dour as the day is long, giving me sass?”

Setting down his cup, Sam shrugged again. “Well, you’re one of us now. Kind of. Part time.” He frowned. “It’s like Cas all over again.”

“What’s like me Sam?” Castiel slipped into the booth beside Sam, dragging Dean with him. Amused, Gabriel licked his whipped cream and watched Sam try, uncomfortably, to squeeze further than the wall would allow. He focused very hard on ignoring the fact that Cas’ cheeks were flushed, or that his now human soul was doing the spiritual equivalent of the rumba. (Dean’s was little better.)

“My zapping in and out.”

Dean grinned. “Oh yeah, the nest? How’s that going Gabe? You want me to buy you some cuddly toys? Feeling broody?”

Casually, Gabriel sipped his more-sugar-than-coffee-thing and turned Dean’s hair bright pink. Castiel scowled, and Gabriel ignored him. “I’ve told you once, I’d told you a million times Dean-o, they’re big angels now. I’ve just given them somewhere to have their existential crisis in relative safety. By which I mean safety for humanity. You do realise what even a low powered angel could do if he or she were feeling even vaguely PMS?”

“Is that a problem? I mean, there are more than just your angels out there, right? Should we be worried?” Sam was trying really hard to look serious. Considering his shoulders were somewhere close to his ears, it didn’t work as well as Gabriel thought he wanted it too. Shifting a little, they weren’t ‘his’ angels, Gabriel replied.

“Well, are vampires a problem? Werewolves, ghosts? The whole monstrous doolally? I guess, as much as anything else. My advice would be to let them alone unless they can cause trouble. The last thing you want to do is jump into that mess of war and give them a united front.”

Cas nodded. “Gabriel is right. My family are highly dangerous.”

Dean, still sporting the pink hair, looked affronted. “We’ve dealt with them so far.”

“That was when you had me on side. You still have me, in every way you want- “ (Gabriel pretended to shoot himself and Sam snickered) “but without a being of some supernatural ability, you and Sam are highly vulnerable.” What Sam called Cas’ kitten frown creased his pale brow, and he grabbed a Winchester on either side. Gabriel tried hard not to comment. Sam looked even more uncomfortable than he had done.

Dean’s frown didn’t lift. “I wouldn’t say vulnerable Cas, we took care of ourselves just fine before you turned up.” Cas raised his eyes heavenwards in a distinctly hormonal expression. Gabriel bit his hand to keep from laughing and hid behind his drink.

“You didn’t even know angels existed.”

“Wasn’t much reason to believe they did.”

“If it ever made a difference, I always had faith.” Sam’s words were soft, but all three of them fell silent. Gabriel tried to meet the Winchesters’ gaze, but he was staring at his hands. Cas and Dean looked at each other, silently trying to decide who should say something. Gabriel beat them to it.

“Cas is wrong, anyway.”

Castiel scowled. “You _know_ how frail-“

“In that you have no supernatural assistance.” Gabriel interrupted. Both Sam and Dean frowned at him, Gabriel waved at his face in the sassiest way he knew how. “Archangel? Dude, I blow Cas out of the water.” Cas’ scowl deepened.

“Mature, Gabriel.”

Dean nudged his lover with his elbow and gave him a sappy smile Gabriel wished he hadn’t seen. (Because he couldn’t leave Dean’s hair so ridiculous when he was so good for Castiel. The mirroring smile Cas gave him nearly made Gabriel puke in his mouth. Nearly. Ugh.) Sam wasn’t smiling, but the edges of it were curling around his mouth – apparently in spite of himself.

“Don’t you have a flock of angels to look after?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I need a break. Dad didn’t build me for this authority stuff.”

Cas frowned. “He created you as an archangel, one of the foremost leaders in-“

“Well I guess I came off the line faulty.” Gabriel sounded more irritated than he’d meant to. Cas shut up and stared in surprise. Dean cleared his throat.

“So, what, you’re saying you want in?”

Gabriel raised both eyebrows. “You say that like you have to give me permission.” Dean sat back, apparently surprised by the realisation that yes, really, Gabriel would do what he liked.

 And then the elder Winchester changed his mind, offering a hand across the table. Gabriel shook it. “Nah. It’ll be good to have you along.”

Sam snorted into the dregs of his coffee. “You’re going to regret that.”

Gabriel pressed both hands to his heart, mouth wide open in mock offense. “Sammy, you wound me!”

All of them laughed. 


	9. Good Things Never Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> For the first time in long enough that it surprises him, Gabriel wants to smite something. He wants to burn: to purge without mercy, to destroy. To wipe clean the slate. He can feel his true form burning with it, with this anger that only an archangel can truly know. He can also feel, like a soft, insignificant breeze, the fluttering fear of the angels around him. Can hear, on the 13th dimension, the rustle of their feathers as they pull their wings in close, the sound dwarfs that of their vessels stepping back and away.
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

At first it goes well. Mostly because, as he loves to point out gleefully on a frequent basis, Gabriel is an archangel. There isn’t much on the supernatural food chain that tops that. They even manage to start squeezing in free time. Sam and Gabriel check out the Smithsonian, Dean and Cas get a date in New York. All of them go to Disneyland, and Cas get a copy of the Impala’s key just so he can attach to it a photo of the four of them on a water slide- one of those tacky things you get from the booth outside. Gabriel has both arms high in the air and is shouting at the front. Behind him, disproportionately long legs sticking out the side, Sam’s hair makes him look like a wet Labrador and he’s laughing. Cas is wearing a surprised grin, with Dean’s arms around his waist. Dean is, cheekily, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek and winking at the camera.

Gabriel definitely doesn’t keep a copy in his pocket, or think it’s the best photo ever. Or miss, with a sudden and abiding ache, what his family used to be like.

Instead, he starts cheating. They’ll be on the way to a case, and Gabriel will snap into the back seat. “The ghost? Sorted. Wanna go see the pyramids?” And then he’ll take them. And he won’t stare too hard at Sam’s look of utter wonder. And Dean and Cas won’t notice, and wander off to give them space.

Except maybe he does, and stands behind Sam, and grins at the sunset over the desert and every shade from amber to gold falling over the Winchester’s honey toffee skin. “Awesome, right?”

Beaming in a way that Dad made just to spite him, he’s sure, Sam turns on Gabriel. “Thank you.” He breathes it with the kind of fervency that would make Gabriel leave anybody else. Instead, the archangel hops from one foot to the other and smiles, awkwardly back.

He tells them about what he has had to concede shall forever more be known as his ‘Nest.’ He’s surprised at the pride with which he tells them about the members of his family who’ve asked for his help, who he is thinking of, more and more, in spite of himself, as ‘his’ angels. And Cas’ silly smile definitely doesn’t make him blush. Nope. Not at all. Because if it did Dean would have teased him, and Dean doesn’t. Instead, he buys him some candy at the next stop.

Khariel visits, once or twice, as does Sachiel. Just to keep him updated, let him know how things are going. When she meets Sam, Sachiel positively beams.

“You’re Sam Winchester, right?”

A little confused (Gabriel gets why, considering the kid's history with angels), Sam nods. She holds out a small, dark hand and he takes it, shaking. Sachiel’s grin gets wider (which has got to hurt, seriously, who smiles that widely?)

“You’re such an inspiration. Seriously. Wow.”

Moving from one foot to the other, Gabriel frowns and tries to decide if he’s jealous. And then later, Sachiel leaves, and Sam looks at him, and he’s tickled pink and trying not to smile, but he tells Cas (because lets be honest, Dean and Gabriel are not the men you go to for much more than teasing) and Gabriel maybe overhears: “she liked me! She respected me! An actual angel, she didn’t hate me at all! She didn’t mind touching me, even though I’m tainted.”

Cas, ponderously, turns on the younger Winchester and carefully lays a hand on either side of his face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Sam Winchester, you are one of the purest people I know.”

Sam flushes and backs off, and Cas nods to himself. And Gabriel really, really likes Sachiel, actually.

Of course, such things never last. It is, after all, Gabriel’s existence. And however well those weeks went, he never held out hope for much less than an almighty roadbump.

He didn’t expect this.

Khariel is crying. Angels can’t weep- not in their true forms. They were not made with tear glands. Their father did not fix sadness, or pain, into that part of their being. So it is rare to see an inhabited vessel cry, either. Unless it is a physiological response- smoke, dust, onions, it is simply something that does not occur to an angel to do. But Khariel is crying when Gabriel finds him on their island, Gabriel’s trumpet in one hand. He is also kneeling, next to the prone, and quite thoroughly broken body of their sister. Sachiel is on one the rocks, just outside the main part of the village. She looks like a child, like this. Accidentally, Gabriel’s toe scuffs the charcoal outline of her wings, spread like snow over the bumpy limestone. Carefully, Gabriel turns her over. He rearranges her clothes, and brushes her hair out of her face. Then he picks her up. He lifts her a little closer and gently kisses her cheek, before walking away. He pauses, and says, softly to Khariel. “Come with me.”

So Khariel does.

When Gabriel reaches the centre, there is already a crowd. At their centre is a battered angel, one who had been among them: Caleb. He is holding his bloody sword. Gabriel does not doubt that he is Sachiel’s killer.

For the first time in long enough that it surprises him, Gabriel wants to smite something. He wants to burn: to purge without mercy, to destroy. To wipe clean the slate. He can feel his true form burning with it, with this anger that only an archangel can truly know. He can also feel, like a soft, insignificant breeze, the fluttering fear of the angels around him. Can hear, on the 13th dimension, the rustle of their feathers as they pull their wings in close, the sound dwarfs that of their vessels stepping back and away. They leave Caleb, on his knees, in front of their archangel and watch.

Gabriel wants to run away.

He can’t do that any more.

So he acts, instead. First, carefully, he lays Sachiel on the ground. Then, in a breath of power, he creates a plinth of marble for her prone form to lie upon. He covers it with roses, and then he turns both they and his sister to marble too. In a wave of his hand, an inscription is born along the base. _‘Sachiel. Our sister. Who never killed another angel.’_

Then he grabs Caleb by his blood encrusted collar, and forced him to look. Caleb frowned. “That’s not possible. All of us-“

“No.” Gabriel hissed, and his true voice rings out too, loud enough to startle the birds around the island, which take flight as one. “No, Caleb. You killed Joshua. Samantha. David and Leah.” He stood, not caring that as he did he took Caleb with him, picking up the angel as though he weighed little more than a feather. He pointed at those with bloody knuckles, who’d been so quick to act.

“Eleanor. You killed Olivia. And Jacob. And Fiona.”

“Alexander, you killed Nicholas, Jeremy and Isabel.”

He glared at the other angels gathered there, and resisted, with difficulty, the urge to shake Caleb. “We do not have children. We are immortal. We do not go to heaven, or hell, or purgatory. We just stop.

We cannot be replaced.” The sea around the island rolled. Above, the sky went dark. A great wind rose and whipped dust around their faces. Gabriel wept. “Can you not consider the gravity of this destruction? The futility? We are family. And I have seen you murder, again and again and again. Destroy those you love. Don’t you remember when we were young? Teaching them to fly, learning from your elders? Learning to sing, and to pray, and to dance. Learning loyalty, above all things.” Abruptly, the maelstrom stopped. The angels, standing closer together than they had been, huddled and stared. Gabriel set Caleb down.

“We will not kill him.” Caleb stared. Gabriel shook his head. “We have no afterlife. We do not learn from death. So we must learn from life, instead.” He looked around, raising his voice. “When you think of this day, think of her. Think of Sachiel, who never spilt a drop of our blood. And do not insult her legacy by starting again, now.”

Gabriel grabbed Caleb and snapped back to the mansion at the top of the island. He put the angel in a bedroom, snapped up some military ration packs and extra security. Then he stood in the doorway and breathed deeply. “You stay here till you’ve learned your lesson. If you’re desperate, you call me. Our father save you if it’s for anything less.”

Caleb stood still for a moment, and then spoke before Gabriel left, voice somewhat incredulous. “You’re grounding me. My commanders-“

“Will soon join you. So you were acting under orders then?” Gabriel made an effort to sound casual. He did not turn around.

“The order had been for you- but yes, one of your lieutenants if-“

“Have you forgotten that they are your family? That you are my brother?” Gabriel shut his eyes as he said the words. Caleb was silent for long enough that the archangel turned.

“We are family, Caleb. All of us, are _family._ Not lieutenants, or generals, or soldiers-“

“Our father-“

“Is gone.”

“Michael would not-“

“Michael is in hell.” And damn it, Gabriel’s voice didn’t break because his brother was an asshole and he got what was coming to him and the sounds of he and Lucifer screaming, actually screaming, were definitely not sounds that haunted his waking mind. Caleb just kept staring. Gabriel had nothing more to say, so he left.

 


	10. Dream A Little Dream Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> Cas nodded. “Indeed. Gabriel could be stronger, or weaker.” A fond smile faded over his mouth. “He is rarely serious for long enough to tell me.” Turning to Sam, the smile fell and Cas frowned. Sam sat there and took it, because by now he’d been living with the once angel long enough to know that Intense Staring was just part of the bargain.
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk.

“Gabriel broke an island in the pacific. I am concerned.”

Sam still wasn’t sure if giving Cas a laptop had been the best idea he’d ever had. He’d hoped the once angel would find something good and healthy- like a blog or a webcomic. And maybe, honestly, an online agony aunt so he’d stop oversharing at any opportunity (no Cas, I am not helping you online shop for sex toys to use with my brother. No.)

He had, instead, subscribed to every news site Sam knew, with money he got from who knew where, and taken to updating them every morning with a chronicle of woe over breakfast cereal. He was also getting pretty good at Solitarie.

“If it’s another power cut Cas, we’ve already explained- besides, electricity isn’t that modern. Surely you get how it works by now.”

Cas pursed his lips. “The theory is beyond me. But yes, I comprehend that a power cut is not a sign of greater disaster. Gabriel broke an island.”

Trying not to sigh, Sam stood and looked over Cas’ shoulder. Well, the island was definitely broken. The report claimed freak seismic activity. Nowhere near a fault line.  It looked as if someone had used it for a punching bag. Boulders were scattered several kilometres into the ocean. The mountain itself was sort of like a sunken soufflé, and apparently the centre had been crushed into sand and then fused into glass. It looked like a surrealist acid trip. ‘ _Even more strange, an ark full of what local scientists confirm would be the islands native species was found a hundred miles out. This may not be relevant, though the coincidence is curious.’_

Which was how Cas knew it was Gabriel’s doing.

“So I take it you’re not concerned about the island?” Sam said wryly, taking a seat. Dean, cooking dinner for them in the kitchen (and Sam would tease him about the domesticity if it didn’t feel quite so much like home) belted out the chorus to ‘Wanted Dead or Alive.’ Cas and Sam shared a grin.

“No. It is a shame that more of our fathers’ work has been destroyed, but frankly, he’s been asking for it.”

Sam blinked. Cas shrugged. “My anger at Dean’s refusal to be angry with your father has lead to me feeling more comfortable in my anger at my own.”

“That’s a lot of 'angry's.”

Cas hummed in agreement. “There is a lot of anger.”

Sam could hardly argue with that. Unsure what to do now, instead he turned his attention back to the screen. On the side bar, a list of similar news stories had been given their own section. One title caught his attention. _“Biblical tornado in the Arctic.”_ He smirked a little, though the smile quickly fell. All the stories had something in common – freak, inexplicable weather in uninhabited places. Which to a scientist could well look like any number of things, but to Sam…it looked a lot like something powerful that didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“What do you think happened?”

Cas shook his head, frowning at the news. “I don’t know. But I am concerned.”

Dean came through with dinner. “Sammy, go get the plates, and- hey, what’s up?”

To both Cas and Sam’s surprise, he’d been genuinely concerned when they shared their findings. He was then affronted at their surprise. “What? The guy’s not bad ok? He makes both of you happy so, in my book, he’s on my side.”

Cas had grinned, shrugging his shoulders in what Sam was pretty sure would have been a wing flutter.

“So what now?”

Dean frowned. “Well, first we eat our dinner. Because I did not spend two hours in that kitchen to watch you watch it go cold.”

Dutifully, Sam and Cas helped themselves, the latter making a moan that was, frankly, pornographic. Sam pursed his lips, though he got it – the food was good. He also got why Dean had turned into such a feeder. As it turned out, one of the greatest things the pair had in common was their love of good food. Dean grinned proudly, though the grin fell when he saw Sam’s plate. “You didn’t like it Sammy?”

Shaking his head, Sam met his brothers’ eyes. “No, no it was really good. It was. I just. What if the other angels found him?” This to Cas. “The ones still fighting. If they have one of those god weapons-“

Cas frowned deeply. “If they had found one of those, they could well be on a more level playing field. Though as an archangel Gabriel should survive.”

“Should?” Sam said the word tightly. Cas shrugged.

“I’m sorry Sam. I don’t know how powerful Gabriel is any more. With God’s blessing, in heaven, theoretically an archangel is impervious to attack. But he has been fallen for so long, and often our resurrections change us-“

“Like you coming back with super mojo after Lucifer killed you, right?” Both Dean and Cas pretended not to notice Sam’s flinch.

Cas nodded. “Indeed. Gabriel could be stronger, or weaker.” A fond smile faded over his mouth. “He is rarely serious for long enough to tell me.” Turning to Sam, the smile fell and Cas frowned. Sam sat there and took it, because by now he’d been living with the once angel long enough to know that Intense Staring was just part of the bargain.

“You should pray.”

Immediately Sam scowled. “Uh, no.”

Dean stared. “Huh? Didn’t know you stopped praying.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “You didn’t figure, after hell, lucifer’s vessel, demon blood, the whole sorry story, that I’d got the hint?”

“Demon blood didn’t stop you before.”

Sam wondered what that had felt like. To have such faith. He wasn’t sure he remembered any more. “Yeah, and then I found out that I was Lucifer’s chosen vessel. And then I got trapped in the cage. Whatever, point is, it’s a dumb plan, lets move on and figure something that might actually help.”

Castiel shook his head. “Truly Sam, I think if you pray, Gabriel may well hear you. This is our best plan.”

“What about the other angels? Ah, Sachiel. Khariel. Couldn’t we summon them?”

Dean, took a swig of beer (from the fridge conveniently located behind a chair rapidly becoming his seat at their table.) “Yeah, but think tactics Sammy.”

Sam wanted to say something snide about Dean and tactics, but didn’t because it’d be wrong and just because he was feeling cornered. Dean continued. “If Gabriel is in  trouble, and they’re helping him, we could end up beaming out his backup in the middle of a fight.”

Cas nodded. “Dean is right, until we know more about the situation, it may be best not to resort to such measures.”

“Why do I have to pray? Why not you, Cas? Surely he’d listen to his brother.” Sam was getting desperate, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d prayed and wasn’t sure he still knew how.

Cas frowned sadly. Gently, Dean laid a hand on his lover's shoulder. Cas leaned into it, shutting his eyes as he spoke. Sam didn’t mind. “I don’t think Gabriel will want to hear from family. Not even me.” His words were soft, but then he opened his eyes and smiled, just a little, at Sam. “You two are far more alike than you think.”

Sam didn’t say anything. Because he did think. He thought about it a lot. Instead he grabbed the plates, stacking them and taking all the dirty washing to the kitchen. On the way out he said, quietly. “I’ll try.”

                                                             

* * *

 

 

Gabriel was not a strategist. He’d be honest and confess to anyone that cared that that had always been Michael and Raphael’s passion, watching with intent interest while the Romans fought their little wars, and he and Lucifer had gone round wreaking havoc and taking drugs with the druids. It’d always been him and Lucifer versus Michael and Raphael. That was just their sometimes playful, sometimes irritating family dynamic. Of course, it turned out later Lucifer had paid a bit more attention to strategy than any of them had known at the time. But, well, Gabriel’s brother was sort of infamous for his many talents.

Point was, if Gabriel hadn’t been the one archangel pretty bad at strategy, he might have guessed that Sachiel’s murder was bait. And that multiple civil wars in heaven would mean that his baby brothers and sisters, normally fairly harmless, might have found a way to arm themselves.

And it’s possible he forgot about the flaming sword that protected Eden, and hadn’t guessed that his baby brother Levi probably still had it.  At least until said brother used it to stab him, and his true form let out a scream that shook the heavens as it was torn by holy fire.

After Sachiel, Gabriel had had a tantrum. Smashed a few islands, let loose a few tornadoes. Then he’d travelled the globe, collecting angels and dragging them through the proverbial hedge backwards, kicking and screaming to his island, where he’d stuck them all on lockdown. The commanders had been tricky, but  overall hadn’t really presented a problem. In fact, the amount of effort it took to do it, after so many months of worry, was really kind of annoying. If he’d known it’d be this easy, he’d have done a clean up months ago.

He probably should have taken the hint when Levi had walked unprotected through Central Park, right past him. But, well, Gabriel was nothing if not impulsive.

Now he was fighting for his life.

“Levi, why can’t we just talk about this? You’re my brother!” Also negotiating. Levi went for him again, and Gabriel flinched out of the way just in time, though the ends of his hair got singed by holy fire.

“You’ve not been my brother for centuries!” The negotiating wasn’t going well. Another slash, and this time it caught Gabriel’s shoulder. His body shuddered with the sheer effort of keeping his pain contained. Gabriel wished he’d thought this through.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Another slash. His calf was slit down the back like a filleted fish. Gabriel stumbled, blood pouring over the grass. His grace was leaking with it, burning the grass beneath their feet.

Levi, standing over him and wearing a park ranger’s uniform, shook his head. “You should have stayed in death. You caused no trouble for us there.”

Gabriel considered giving up. Levi had a point. It seemed all that ever happened when he was around his family was trouble. They argued, and they fought, and they hurt one another. It didn’t seem to matter what he did. If he left, they fought, if he stayed, they fought. He went off the rails, they didn’t notice. He came back, and yet so many were still fighting and hurting and dying and he was _tired._ He was tired of the people he loved falling from his life. He was tired of pretending with all his might not to care and caring anyway and being hurt for it. And maybe it would be easier to go back to being nothing. Maybe that was what he was meant for. Because Michael would always go down in battle, and Lucifer would always have fallen. And Raphael would always try to take control. But Gabriel? He’d never had much interest in power, less in war. And in that moment, it was all he could remember. How different he was to his brothers and sisters, how little like them. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe he’d come off the line faulty. Maybe he was always meant to die: a convenient sacrifice no one wanted anyway.

Levi’s sword fell, and Gabriel bowed his head to pray: to pray in his last breath for his family on his island, and his genii reforming heaven, and Dean the human meatloaf and Cas his favourite nerd and Sam. He didn’t know where to start with Sam, much less how to finish.

Gabriel was getting weaker. He was aware, from one breath to the next, of all 13 dimensions. Could smell his own transcendent blood, cooling on the grass.

_Hey, uh, Gabriel. This is dumb._ Gabriel was hardly aware of rolling to the side. He was working on autopilot, and the programme his dad had left him with was not a bad one. He wrestled Levi’s sword from him, took it as his own, and still was able only to give the fight half of his waking attention.

_I don’t remember the last time I prayed._

Gabriel did not want to kill another angel, but he could feel the anger, power, hate, anger rolling off Levi in waves and all he could compare it to was Lucifer.

_I just. I figured I didn’t have a right to, any more. I guess._

He buried Levi under a hawthorn bush in a snap of his fingers. He buried the sword with him. Gabriel turned to leave and stumbled, falling to one knee. He stared at his side, still weeping grace. Oh. He’d forgotten that archangels could bleed. He went to touch it, and jerked with the pain in his shoulder. The calf, which had crumpled when he’d tried to move, would not respond and let him stand.

_Sorry. Point is. I’m worried? Ignore that. It’s not a question. I am._

The soft sound of a laugh rang through Gabriel’s head. Dizzily, he fell forwards, onto the bloody grass.

_And I know, I know. You’re an archangel. But. Well, I guess I’ve started thinking of you as my archangel. It’s presumptive, and it’ll probably piss you off. Ah, sorry again. But it’s true. I don’t know why you found me, or how you came back, but I’m so, so glad you did._

The gratitude throbbed into Gabriel’s mind, humming with each beat of his weakening heart. In the distance, Gabriel could hear dogs barking. A dragonfly landed on his limp arm and he stared at it, marvelling at the veins traced delicately through its tiny wings. They were so much smaller than his.

_I don’t know where you are, or what’s going on right now, or if you can hear me. But please, come back again? Come back, to me. For me. Be safe, and mad, and collecting genii and making bad jokes. Be ok. Please._

Gabriel shut his eyes.


	11. Shipping Has Nothing To Do With Boats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> Gabriel sat up now, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and his side and his leg, and stared into the younger Winchester’s eyes and tried really hard to focus on this problem and not how fucking beautiful he was but dear dad, he couldn’t see that face and forget it.
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk. (AU, as no Kevin, or Crowley. Not because I don't like them, they just didn't quite fit.)

When Gabriel woke up, it was to a quietly whispered conversation at his bedside.

“Did you even read those books? You could cut the sexual tension with a knife!”

“Oh really? Because you acted like my sexuality was a surprise to you.”

“Well, you know, you being Mr Macho-“

“You’re stereotyping.”

“I know.” A pause. “My gaydar has been way off for a while now. But come on, this is common sense. I mean, look at you.”

“Yeah. Boy with the demon blood. Emphasis on boy. I must be little more than a comma on the page to him.”

“Well obviously that’s wrong. If the canon development of Destiel means anything-“

“Destiel?”

“Dean and Castiel. If it means anything, it’s that that isn’t how the angels experience time.”

“Angels, not archangels. And Cas and Dean have only together since he Fell.”

“Now you’re being pedantic.”

Slowly, Gabriel blinked awake. He was met with a head of poppy red hair, beneath which a pretty, pale girl was beaming.  She waved. “Hi Gabriel. I’ve heard _so_ much about you.” She gave Sam a meaningful look, and he shifted under her graze, frowning before turning to Gabriel.

“How are you? You need anything?”

Gabriel frowned at the girl, trying to figure out if she was one of his sisters. Once he was sure that she really wasn’t, he looked to Sam, surprised at how stiff his neck was. “Whose the chick? Not cheating on me, are you Sammy?”

The girl grinned. Sam sighed, though a fond smile climbed onto his mouth, apparently in spite of himself. “Ah, no. Gabriel, this is Charlie. She helped us with the Leviathans, and some fairy a while back. She’s kind of like the sister Dean and I never had.”

Gabriel smiled. “A girl who merits the title of honorary Winchester? Now you I have to know.” He tried to sit up and hissed in more surprise than pain when his side throbbed. He went to touch it, and was further surprised to discover neat, clean bandages wrapped tightly around his torso. “Gah, how long have I been out?”

Sam, who had been frowning in concern already, clenched his jaw. It was only then that Gabriel noticed the deep bags beneath his eyes, the slept in clothes and messy hair. “A week. Wasn’t sure you were going to wake up at one point.”

Gabriel pursed his lips, turning his head awkwardly to look at his bandaged shoulder. “It shouldn’t have taken that long.”

“Actually, it should.”

Both men looked at Charlie, who shifted awkwardly. “Ah, I’ve been talking to Cas. He told me to tell you you’re an idiot by the way. No offense. From me. I think he probably meant it to be offensive. He’s kind of pissed.” Gabriel grinned as she got more and more flustered.

“What is it Dean says in the books? Don’t piss off-“

“The nerd angels.” Charlie grinned. Sam looked from one to the other in mounting panic before settling on Gabriel.

“Wait, you’ve read the books?”

Gabriel grinned. “Sammy, it’s me. Messenger of the Lord. Kind of in the job description to read the gospels.”

Sam ran a hand through his messy hair. “Those were a lot of things, but they weren’t gospels. More like b-grade soft porn.”

“Nothing wrong with a little porn.” Charlie and Gabriel spoke in chorus, before stopping to grin at each other. Charlie spoke next.

“Anyway, Cas says you lost a lot of grace because it was a god level weapon and that you’d wake up in a week to ten days. So actually he’s healed really well, will you sleep now?” This last part was addressed to Sam. Gabriel frowned.

“You haven’t been sleeping?”

Sam scowled at him. “I prayed to you.” Gabriel nodded, he’d heard. He remembered that. Quietly, Charlie excused herself. “What you might not remember is that once I was done, you turned up in my bedroom. Totally broken. I mean, don’t know if you noticed, but when the sword got your shoulder it nicked a wing too. As for your side, I mean Jesus, Gabriel, I don’t know how your anatomy works but I don’t know how you survived that. You were crying.” Sam’s voice trailed off, and he dropped his face into his hands. “I never thought I’d hear an angel cry.”

Gabriel was about, guiltily, to make some attempt at joking everything better. But then he rewound through Sam’s words and frowned. “Wait, you saw my wings?”

Sam rubbed his face, taking a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, all six. Pretty impressive, actually.” The side of his mouth quirked in a smile.

Gabriel considered cursing himself to hell and back. Or just going there himself and asking for lifetime membership. Because if Sam had seen his wings, that meant he’d lost control. Not all, or else this bunker wouldn’t be here, but enough that Sam had seen his true self, and that meant- wait. “Why aren’t you blind?”

That surprised a laugh out of Sam, who cocked his head to the side. “You sound almost upset.”

Gabriel sat up now, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and his side and his leg, and stared into the younger Winchester’s eyes and tried really hard to focus on this problem and not how fucking beautiful he was but dear dad, he couldn’t see that face and forget it. Pulling himself together, he tested his own theory. “You saw me. Part of me. My true form. But it…didn’t hurt you?”

Sam shook his head, breaking into that breath taking smile that tended to set Gabriel’s wings a-flutter. “Nope.”

“That’s impossible.”

“You ever heard the phrase, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Be serious Sam.”

“Really? You. Asking me to be serious?” Sam was grinning widely now, and Gabriel stared at him helplessly, looking for harm that he just couldn’t see.

“How could you survive me?”

Sam shrugged, pretending to be serious. “I ask myself that every day.”

Gabriel pretended that didn’t sting and persisted. “But I’m an archangel!”

“No.” And now Sam was serious. Gabriel was sitting on the side of his bed, legs over the edge. Opposite him, the hunter had his arms on his knees, and now he stared into the archangel’s eyes like they held the secrets to life itself. “You’re an idiot.” Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but Sam pressed a finger to his lips and suddenly all the trickster could think of was Sam’s skin and Sam’s taste and Sam’s heat and oh, lord, when had he fallen this far?

“You’re also, on occasion, a total jerk.” Gabriel frowned, but Sam kept his finger in place, shaking his head with a smile. “You’re impulsive, you’re eccentric, you pretend to be allergic to responsibility. You’re a massive dork.” He paused, and Gabriel folded his arms with a dramatic ‘harrumph’.

And then Sam was leaning forwards, wrapping his long, strong arms around Gabriel’s much smaller body, pressing his face into Gabriel’s shoulder. His hair tickled Gabriel’s neck, and the archangel couldn’t care less. Sam smiled into the trickster’s skin, taking a deep breath of the sugary, mint and chocolate smell that was all Gabriel. “You never listen. You’re rude. You’re arrogant and you make terrible puns.” He leaned back, smiling at Gabriel’s perplexed expression.

“Is this insult Gabriel day, or?”

Sam huffed a laugh, brushing his thumb over Gabriel’s face, using his fingers to tuck his blonde hair behind his ear. “You came back. You came back, safe, to me.”

Gabriel, unsure exactly what to do, or more precisely, what he wanted to do, made a show of glancing down at his bandages. “Safe is a relative term.”

Sam grinned, shaking his head and pulling back. “It’s good enough for me.”

                                     

* * *

 

 

Charlie was there for a very simple reason, and that was that she needed to be. She’d bumped into Dean in full worried mother mode- Sam had not been sleeping and Gabriel had been potentially dying for four days, and said she’d needed somewhere to stay. Bad breakup, and she’d seen the angels fall, and she was worried. Her reaction to the fact that Dean and Cas were together had been an eye roll and a smiling “finally.” Sam’s worry over Gabriel, and the fact Gabriel was alive, were facts about which she hadn’t been sure how to feel about until she knew Gabriel was ok. Then she’d listened to Cas and Dean’s speculations, jumped up and down a bit, and leaked it on several fan sites for the Carver Edlund books.

Sam and Gabriel, completely oblivious, took the time to catch up. It was over dinner that Gabriel filled the rest of them in on his antics at what they were all beginning to call Angel Island. Munching a burrito Gabriel had paused, swallowed, and said calmly.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could ask for your help?” Sam, Cas and Dean stared. Charlie grinned.

“With what?”

“Well.” Gabriel stared at what was left of his burrito and pretended he wasn’t self conscious about this. “I was thinking of…like, a school of life. Teach them religion. About literature, and science, medicine, history. I mean, I lived it. Figured maybe we could give them a bottled version? With supernatural stuff on the side.”

Sam beamed at him. Charlie and Cas did the same, and Dean gave a low whistle.

“Geez Gabriel, you really are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, beginning to feel the first flushes of success. “Is that a compliment, meatloaf?”

Dean shrugged. “Close as your big head is getting.”

Gabriel laughed. Dean looked pleased, and went to take a bite out his burrito. He paused in the action and looked at Charlie. “Dude, if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a hundred times, no laptops at the dinner table!”

Dejected, Charlie set down her laptop again, beneath her chair. Her depression lasted all of ten seconds, before she leaned across to Gabriel. “This, is, awesome!”

Sam chuckled. “It really is Gabriel.”

“I would like to do a course on bees.” Cas said it quietly, and Gabriel shot his brother a puzzled look. Sam met Dean’s eyes and both of them laughed. Cas, sheepishly, shook his head and blushed. “Sane or not, bees are fascinating creatures.” Dean leaned forwards and pecked Cas on the cheek.

“Yeah, I know.”

Charlie gave both Sam and Gabriel an exaggerated wink. The archangel winked back, and in that movement Dean and Cas disappeared. Charlie blinked, while Sam turned to Gabriel, smiling a little and trying to remember exactly when he’d come to trust the archangel so deeply that he entrusted him with the two people dearest to him in the world.

Gabriel shrugged. “What? I got them a room. In New York. “His grin widened. “Very exclusive. Now whose up for a Star Wars marathon?”

Both Sam and Charlie beamed.

As they got things set up in the living room they’d improvised (with a new and improved couch and tv, courtesy of Gabriel) Charlie said. “Hey, can I do sex ed?” Both males stared at her, and she laughed at the expressions on their faces. “What?” For a second she became more serious. “I mean, judging by how long it took Cas to figure things out, I’m guessing there’s not a big lgbtq representation beyond the pearly gates?”

Gabriel snorted, jumping on the couch with a big plastic bowl of gummy bears. “First, I love him, but Cas is not the angel by which we judge standards when it comes to romance. Second, what with us being family, it’s pretty rare for relationships of any sort – there’s not really prejudice against gay relationships, just that romance itself is a bit of a non issue. “ Both Sam and Charlie frowned, and Gabriel barrelled on. (He was definitely not staring at Sam’s arse as he got on his knees to stick the DVD in. And Charlie definitely did not catch him looking. Nope, not a thing.) “Well, that doesn’t mean relationships don’t happen. And I guess ‘brother’ or ‘sister’ are used in the same way you might use ‘friend’, really. Some of us are closer than others, and our family is so big that some are more like distant cousins. I mean, it’s weird, because we’re all individually created by dad, so we’re sort of related? But only in so much as everything else is.” Gabriel pinched his forehead. “This is much easier to explain if you’re an angel.”

Sam huffed a laugh right into Gabriel’s ear, his breath hot on the archangel’s neck. “Don’t hurt yourself with all that thinking.” An awkward elbow jutted into Gabriel’s ribs and the archangel shifted to the side. “Budge up hotshot.”

Gabriel decided that, as an archangel, he really should be able to will away blushes if he wanted to.

“Ok, point is, sex ed works. I mean, gay human to angel relationships are ideal, actually. No chance of Nephilim, and doesn’t feel quite so close to incest. Not that straight relationships aren’t possible, but-“

“Gabriel.” Charlie held up a hand and gave him a Look. “You’re thinking too much. Now shut up so we can focus on the sheer sex appeal that is Leia in a slave outfit.”

Both Sam and Gabriel rolled their eyes, but neither objected.

Three films later, Charlie made her excuses. Sam, who had been half asleep against the sofa, jumped and blinked awake. Gabriel snorted softly. “You ok there, green giant?”

Sam pouted. “I’m not green.” He reached down over the edge of his sofa, looking disappointed when he brought up an empty beer bottle. Gabriel frowned.

“You and your brother drink a lot. I mean, from me, that’s saying something.”

Sam huffed and wriggled deeper into the crease he’d made for himself on the sofa. “Can you blame us?”

Gabriel thought about it, and sighed softly. “Not really. I thought my life was hard.”

Frowning, Sam nudged Gabriel’s thigh with his knuckles. Gabriel pretended it didn’t send a totally inappropriate buzz up through his body. Inappropriate because, really? Sam was about to pass out. Smexy times were not ahoy, and thinking there would be could only end I disappointment.

“It has been.”

“What?”

“Your life. It has been hard.”

Gabriel lifted one shoulder in a half hearted shrug, turning off the tv with a snap of his fingers. “I was built to last.”

Sam hummed, softly. “You’re one of the strongest men I know.”

That surprised him. Gabriel paused to stare at the younger Winchester, but he’d drifted from falling to sleep. With a soft smile, the archangel lifted the much larger man, thinking vaguely of the pieta. Gently, he set Sam in his bed and dragged the covers over him. Brushing the hair from his face, Gabriel thought, briefly, that he had not seen anything more beautiful than that, then: Sam’s toffee honey face, lit in sharp angles and soft curves, smudged by shadows cast by the moonlight.

“Sweet dreams Sammy.”


	12. Home And Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> Huffing, Charlie munched on a mouthful of sugar before speaking again. “Look, epic as your romance is, it was also epically drawn out, and I mean that in the literary sense. I mean, five books of sexual tension in, and I wanted to shoot myself.” Dean frowned, and Cas carefully took the pan off the stove, tipping the bacon onto their plates and taking his seat. “No offense. Just, you know, figure we can chip in this time.”
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk. (AU, as no Kevin, or Crowley. Not because I don't like them, they just didn't quite fit.)

And then, finally, Gabriel went back to Angel Island.

He snapped into existence and Khariel barrelled into him so fast Gabriel fell over, and suddenly they were a pile of limbs on the ground and Khariel was crying and punching him and then just holding him close.

For a second, Gabriel was surprised. Then he was embarrassed. And then, when Khariel sniffed, tried to rub away his tears on Gabriel’s t-shirt and stared up at his big brother as if he was a fledgling once more, Gabriel lifted his arms and hugged him right back.

“I thought you were dead. You asshole, I thought we’d lost you.”

Gabriel shook his head, gently stroking his little brother’s hair. “Don’t be such a fool. I wouldn’t leave you.” He smiled. “Not after you went to all the trouble of finding me.”

And then Hanael crested the ridge of rocks that made up the islands’ beach, and saw them and was suddenly running, launching herself at Gabriel and knocking the wind out of him. And then more and more of the angels were coming, and they were crying and swearing and hitting him and hugging him, and Gabriel had never felt so truly, desperately loved as he did right then, swamped by his family. Laughing, and crying, and not trying to hide it because he was learning to let himself cry, sometimes, when he needed it, Gabriel straightened.

Clearing his throat, he raised his voice. “So, guess I have some explaining to do.”

Hanael barked a laugh and raised an eyebrow at him. “You think?”

Gabriel waggled his finger at her. “Now you, no getting cheeky with me.” She just stuck her tongue out at that, and Gabriel couldn’t help but smile. He lead them back to the square, and there he explained his fight with Levi, his injury, his going to the Winchesters. Several seemed surprised to hear of his involvement with the boys, though neither Hanael nor Khariel were among them. Gabriel was surprised to see half a dozen of those he’d locked up in the crowd, wearing sheepish expressions and staring at their feet.

“So you lot learned your lesson?”

The other angels turned to stare at the accused, who shifted from one foot to the other. It was Caleb who spoke up. “It was hard not to, seeing Her every day from our windows.” He nodded to the statue behind Gabriel, of Sachiel on her marble plinth, strewn with roses and looking for all the world like she was sleeping. Gabriel nodded. “Well, I suppose there’s hope for you yet. So, update me.”

Khariel and Hanael did, walking with him back to the mansion. They’d continued with the field trips Gabriel had started, one or the other taking one every day with the angels who wanted to go. The schedule had become two days looking for kindness, two days making it. Along the way, they’d picked up nearly thirty new angels. Hanael beamed.

“I think we’ve found nearly all of the fallen. And they’re learning, they’re really learning.” This much was obvious, by the display created by Khariel in Gabriel’s office. It looked a little close to an altar, but Gabriel didn’t have long to feel uncomfortable about that because then he really looked. It was a collage, more than fifty different photos and printouts and newspaper articles, and these were his angels: starting orphanages and saving earthquake victims, learning first aid and, in a case that shocked a laugh out of him, saving a cat from a burning building.

Indeed, the town itself was looking more like a home, now. The angels had planted trees, and made a jetty. There were a handful of dinghies and a speed boat moored there. The odd cat and dog wandered the little village’s dusty streets. The houses looked like houses, carefully built from wood and stone. They were ok. More than that, they were doing well.

Gabriel thought, with cautious pride, that he’d started all this. He smiled to himself, then clapped his hands. Khariel jumped, and Hanael sniggered at him.

“Ok, then I’m going back on leave.”

Both his brother and sister frowned. “What?” It was Hanael who spoke, sounding hurt. Gabriel smiled at her gently.

“Not permanently. I’ve just got a project to finish. We’ll go back to what we were before, ok? I’ll flit in when you need me.” Neither angel looked delighted, but they seemed to know it was the best they were going to get. “What? I’m a free spirit.”

Hanael rolled her eyes. “Our father help whoever you decide to mate.”

                         

* * *

 

 

“Sam and Gabriel are in love.”

Charlie said this as if it were a revelation. Dean continued showing Cas how to fry bacon (read, hovering over the fallen angel’s shoulder, anxiously, and touching him more than he really needed to.)

“Charlie, do you like your bacon just cooked or crispy?” Cas murmured whilst staring intently at the frying meat. “Sam likes the former, Dean the latter.”

“Ah, neither, thanks.” Charlie raised her bowl of fruit loops then frowned. “Did you hear what I just said?”

Dean turned to give her a smile, getting plates and cutlery for he and Cas out of their respective cupboards and drawers. “We heard you. It didn’t seem to add anything to the conversation, so we moved on.”

“But, we have to do something about it.”

“Why will that be necessary?” Cas sounded honestly curious, though again he addressed himself to the frying pan. “Sam and Gabriel will come to understand their love for one another in time. I do not see what we have to do with the process.”

Charlie looked to Dean for help, who raised his eyebrows. “What? I’m with Cas on this. They’ll figure it out in their own time.”

Huffing, Charlie munched on a mouthful of sugar before speaking again. “Look, epic as your romance is, it was also epically drawn out, and I mean that in the literary sense. I mean, five books of sexual tension in, and I wanted to shoot myself.” Dean frowned, and Cas carefully took the pan off the stove, tipping the bacon onto their plates and taking his seat. “No offense. Just, you know, figure we can chip in this time.”

Dean shoved a forkful of bacon into his mouth and spoke while eating. “Alright genius, how?”

Briefly nonplussed, Charlie rolled her eyes at Cas, who smiled back, and lifted up her smart phone. An IMDB page came up with a picture of a young Kenneth Brannagh and Emma Thompson.

“You can’t go wrong with Shakespeare.”

                  

* * *

 

 

“Wait, you mean Gabriel has an actual crush on Sam?!” Charlie’s voice rose into a squeal, high and loud enough that Sam heard her from several bookshelves away, where he was writing an introduction to law for the angels.

He frowned, waiting for Dean to respond with something teasing. Instead, Cas’ voice echoed up into the ceiling.

“I do not know what you mean by ‘crush’, but I do believe my brother has fostered genuine affection for Sam, yes.”

Frowning at his laptop, Sam tried to pretend he wasn’t listening in. And decided that genuine affection was not even remotely close to romantic interest. At all. So there was no point getting his hopes up. If he was even listening. Which he wasn’t.

“And by genuine affection, you mean Gabriel wants to jump his bones and make sweet, passionate love?”

Sam blushed. There was a pause in which he could just imagine the expression on Cas’ face, before the had been angel spoke again.

“Um. Yes. Something like that.” Another long pause, and then a sigh. “I do think Gabriel is in love with Sam. And all that entails.”

Charlie giggled. “Aw Cas, you sure you’re not just seeing couples everywhere with your love goggles?”

“I don’t understand.”

More giggles. “You know, sure it’s not just wishful thinking?”

“I am sure. Gabriel told me. He sent me a text asking how to seduce him.”

“Right, because you know the first thing about seduction.” Charlie’s voice was thick with scepticism, and Sam couldn’t help echoing it. He also, uh, definitely hadn’t stood and walked closer to the bookshelf their voices were coming from so he could hear better. That would be ridiculous.

“I think I am simply the only person he knows and feels close enough to to ask.” A pause. “It was odd though, you’re right.”

Charlie hummed happily. “Well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Gabriel acts in mysterious ways. Can you imagine how they’d look together though?” She giggled. “It’d be so awkward, but so cute.”

Cas huffed his soft whisper of a laugh. “I believe that having a ‘size-kink’ is not uncommon.”

Sam blushed deeply, and pretended really really hard that that had never occurred to him.

“Cas, you never fail to surprise me. Come on, lets go find your soulmate.”

Their footsteps retreated and Sam stood, still blushing. Running a hand through his hair, he shut his eyes and tried not to think of Gabriel’s small, gorgeous, golden body beneath his hands. Of finally stealing that smirk from his lips.

A text alert rang out through the empty library.

Frowning, Sam paused in his steps toward his desk. The alert rang again, and, well, he was in Gabriel’s immortal words, Mr-You-Thought-The-Cat-Was-Curious.

The phone had been left on the table, probably by Cas, who tended to get more absent minded than usual when it came to technology. Which also explained why there was no lock on it. What there was was a new message from Gabriel.

‘Ignore previous. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I think I have a plan. >;D Time to romance the wild moose.’

Sam huffed a breath of surprised laughter, scrolling a little further up to see the other message, sent one day previous.

‘Hey bro. Just wondering (and you better not tell anyone about this or I’ll make Dean a frog for a month). But if, hypothetically, I was to pull my excellent moves on Sammy, how do you think he’d respond? How should I go about it? Should I?’

Sam smiled softly, gently brushing his thumb over the screen.

Then he set the phone back on the table and left it there.

 (Dean, in another room, set down his own phone proudly. And they said he wasn't the brains of the outift.)

* * *

 

Gabriel sighed, and kept doodling. His fingers were smudged with charcoal and graphite. It had been so long since he’d drawn anything. And of course, now he was finally stretching his hard earned, well loved creative muscles once more, they would be focused around one subject in particular.

Gabriel looked fondly down at the dark eyes beneath his thumb, smudged into the shadows of a straight nose, set amidst the dusty grey planes of a handsome, weary face. He wasn’t sure what he loved most about drawing Sam. He had pages and pages of his hands, and as many again of his hair, his face. The way he stooped, and when he stood straight. The curve of his back, the smooth lines of his forearms. The graceful falls of his calves and the roll of his shoulders.

Gabriel was still working on his smile.

Humming to herself, Charlie leaned over his shoulder, long red hair spilling across the back of his neck. Gabriel hardly minded the presence, he and the hacker had become fast friends, and he missed touch. Though he had his angels now, before that, it had been too many millennia when simply contact had not involved tricks, lies or treachery. Or his own imagination.

“Whatcha drawing?”

In a soft exhale, Gabriel swapped the pages he had been using with older studies of various species of dog. He’d gone through a fanatical phase a few centuries ago, though he’d eventually tired of it. He still considered himself a dog man, but there were only so many times he could blink and realise that yet another four legged friend was on its death bed. Humans would live the life span of three, maybe four dogs. Nor more than six or seven, perhaps. Gabriel had gone through dozens and tired of the melancholy left in their spaces in his life.

Charlie grinned, snatching the sketchbook, and Gabriel smirked. “Wow. These are great Gabriel! Never knew you had an artistic side.” She pulled a face. “Wouldn’t have figured your father would make you with that inclination.”

Gabriel shrugged. “He loves beauty. It’s one of the things I still like about the guy.”

Charlie smiled softly. “I’ll bet. Speaking of- Sam’s pretty beautiful, isn’t he?” Well, apparently subtlety was no longer a thing.

“Have you been talking to Cas and Dean?” Gabriel’s tone was flat. Charlie shrugged, still smiling, and sat down, turning in her chair so she could face him.

“Well duh. So why haven’t you made a move yet? I mean, you didn’t strike me as the 40,000 year old virgin type.” She set her chin on her hand, looking genuinely curious. Gabriel resisted the urge to pout, raising an eyebrow instead.

“Please, don’t spare my blushes.”

Charlie huffed. “Like you have any left.” Her smile turned into something more genuine. “Really though, what’s holding you back?”

And Gabriel wanted to tell her. He really did. But as he kept trying to remind everyone, he had once been the God of tricks and lies, and could smell a fish a mile off. So he held out his hand instead. “You tell me your game, I’ll tell you mine.”

Charlie took it, and in a wing beat they were in Rio. The girl stumbled, catching herself and staring. “Where are we?”

Gabriel grinned. “Rio de Janeiro. So any plots you might have cooked up  back at the bunker have just gone belly up.”

Snorting, Charlie folded her arms, walking a little down the dusty street and looking up at the blue-violet, evening sky. “You’re paranoid. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Gabriel spread his arms wide. “I’ve been a fugitive for more than a thousand years, so shoot me.”

Charlie shook her head, smiling at him. “Nope. Come on, lets get a drink.” Taking his hand, she dragged him to a bar a little way down the road, with a parrot on a sign outside. Gabriel let her, and found himself, once again, in a state of both amusement and respect at how well Charlie managed the world and people around her.

Later, they were on their third cocktail each, all of which had been ordered by Charlie in fluid Spanish. She was getting her breath back, having laughed herself out of it following Gabriel’s story of the one and only time Baldur tried to seduce him.

He watched her fondly, thinking that though she wasn’t an angel, she was his sister, too. And then he said, quietly. “What if I fuck up?” Charlie was quiet then. Both of them were. In the distance, car horns blared and crowds thundered. But in that little bar, the loudest sound was that of the fan, and the bartender washing up. Charlie frowned, and Gabriel spoke again. “I’m not sure I can stand to love and lose again. Not like that. I’m not sure I’m brave to risk it.”

A small- and considering the size of Gabriel’s vessel, that was saying something – but nonetheless, a small, white hand rested on his. Gabriel, not even remotely drunk but suddenly very, very sad, stared into Charlie’s dilated pupils and wondered how long, in this endless saga of moments through history, he’d be given to know even her.

A small smile curved Charlie’s lips. “You’re an idiot.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “So you humans keep telling me.” He finished off his cocktail, ordered two more with a gesture at the bar tender and a gentle mental nudge. Charlie squeezed his hand.

“Human souls are immortal. We die, sure, but then we’ll be up in heaven, right? I mean, you know, given we stay on the nice list.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows at her. “Of course you’ll go to heaven. But that’s not how it works, we can’t just drop in-“

“Why not?” Charlie interrupted, and Gabriel frowned. Because, well, why not? She continued. “You’ve got free will. You’re the only archangel left. And from what you’ve said about Grand Designs 2.0 with your collection of genii, there’s a lot more freedom of movement up there these days.”

Gabriel nodded, slowly. Charlie smiled. “So why not? Why not love him here and love him there?”

“That’s an awfully long time Charlie.” Gabriel’s words were soft. The bartender took their glasses and replaced them with fresh drinks. Charlie pushed her hair back behind her ear, lifting one shoulder.

“Then I guess you’ve got to figure out what scares you more. Sam saying yes, or Sam saying no.” She gave him a small smile. “I think it’s probably the latter.”

 


	13. Don't Forget The Antagonist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> Gabriel, in between Charlie, Sam, Cas and even Dean’s (what, you think I grew up as a marine and don’t have anything to teach your feathered friends?) courses for the angels, had been hopping back occasionally. You know, build a workshop here, appease an angel there. By now, the island was looking like something incredible.
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk. (AU, as no Kevin, or Crowley. Not because I don't like them, they just didn't quite fit.)

The problem with his dad taking a vacation, and free will going up for grabs, was that suddenly everyone wanted a piece. And where before the plot had been measured, speeding up in some places, slowing down in others, taking a few bars rest like a well written piece of music, now it was sheer modernist chaos. There were too many plot devices, and between heaven and the Winchesters, his own resurrection and your average hell spawn, Gabriel decided he could hardly be blamed for forgetting that Knight of Hell that just happened to be wandering about.

Or that, since that Knight of Hell was definitely alive and quite violently kicking, the fact that she’d been off the radar for months was probably nothing good (Gabriel was The messenger, he knew no news was certainly not good news.) But well, too many plot devices. He definitely didn’t forget because he was wrapped up like the proverbial teenager in sketches of big hands and thoughts of split sunshine smiles. Nope. Not at all.

Gabriel, in between Charlie, Sam, Cas and even Dean’s (what, you think I grew up as a marine and don’t have anything to teach your feathered friends?) courses for the angels, had been hopping back occasionally. You know, build a workshop here, appease an angel there. By now, the island was looking like something incredible. With the help of the other angels- because Gabriel was powerful but not infinitely so, they’d made real roads, built a theatre, a lecture hall, a workshop, a surgery. An art studio and a laboratory. A library. It was like a university and a town and a research project, all wrapped up into one stylish package, full of angels.

But he hadn’t yet taken his humans to see it (and he was allowed to be proprietorial in his own head, ok, so shut up.) He had to admit to himself that was a little bit real concern and a lot irrational jealousy. He was immensely proud of the friends he’d made and the forgiveness he’d found. He didn’t really want to share it.

Eventually, though, the time came. Charlie had nagged often enough about hot angels, Sam about the copyright library Gabriel had replicated with some difficulty. Cas wanted to see his brothers and sisters, had learnt to overcome his nerves and now just wanted their forgiveness (Gabriel knew there would be little to forgive, he’d made sure they’d known how badly Castiel was abused, of them all, to create the end that had led them here.) Even Dean, shoot first ask questions later, had done an about turn on the whole subject. Gabriel didn’t doubt it had to do with Cas, but it was still just nice to hear the elder Winchester say, casually, that he was curious.

So, after thorough warning to his angels, Gabriel suggested that he take his humans to his island, and they enthusiastically agreed.

Gabriel held onto Charlie and Sam, who respectively grabbed onto Dean and Cas. He grinned at them, took a deep breath, prayed – for once actually prayed, that it would all go well, and with a mighty beat of all six of his wings, they disappeared.

They landed on the island, under a bright, clear sun and wide blue sky. The sea, endless and glittering in all directions, beat and roared and breathed the scent of salt over their faces. Together, they were standing on a rocky outcrop at one end of the town. Gabriel had planned this. He wanted them to have a grand tour.

All of them looked around, wide eyes taking in the view, and then Gabriel clapped his hands. “Alright kids, this way.”

Sam swore, and Gabriel looked at the younger Winchester in surprise. Smiling sheepishly, he rubbed his chest and shrugged. “It’s ok. Just a bug. Midge or something.” Gabriel raised two fingers, and Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s just an insect bite.” His smile softened, and he nudged the archangel playfully with his elbow. “I’m a big boy, I’ll live.”

Gabriel snorted. “A big boy, are you? Can you put your money where your mouth is?” His mouth twisted into a lewd smile, and Sam blushed a bit. Gabriel turned to leave it at that, but then there was warm breath falling over the shell of his ear, and the smell of sweat and oil and soap.

“If you want me to, I can do so much more than that.”

And Gabriel definitely wasn’t blushing again. Without replying, he marched forwards, into the beginnings of the town. On the periphery, gorgeous English cottages were cluttered over the rocks, inhabited by the more relaxed, art loving angels among them, who’d often spend days looking at the sea. Gabriel would happily spend hours with them, snacking on fruit and looking out the wide open windows, sometimes sketching. He explained this as he went, and they got further into the neat little town. The library and lecture halls rose up in impressive, twisting scrolls of brass, oak and glass, which glittered against the sky. Steel and stone oblongs sat squat to hold the labs and surgeries. The theatre, tall and proud in Romanesque marble, stood alone on the way up to the mansion. Everywhere that there was space, between the houses and by the buildings, trees and bushes and flowers grew with unprecedented vitality.

Gabriel grinned as Castiel got distracted by a bundle of bees hovering over an azalea bush.

He explained to Charlie and Sam, both of whom were frowning, “I know, I know, doesn’t make much sense. I mean, rocks and salt water are hardly ideal terrain. My theory-“ He paused, self consciously scratching the back of his neck, then shrugging and deciding to go with it. “My theory is happy angels. Their grace is really bright at the moment, I wish you could see it.” And he did, because, bathing the whole town in golden light on the 13th dimension, the angels’ grace made it look a lot like heaven. “I think, subconsciously, they’re working their magic on everything around them. It explains all the birds too. And the dolphins. And the beginnings of the reef.” He grinned; that’d been a fun swim. Both Charlie and Sam raised their eyebrows, beginning to smile.

“Not done too badly, Mr Archangel.” Charlie playfully punched Gabriel in the shoulder and he shrugged. (And stifled the flower of pride blooming in his chest.)

“Yeah yeah, alright. Anyway, Sam, library’s this way.”

But instead of smiling, widely, as anyway who knew Sam Winchester would expect him to when presented with the really pretty impressive building that was Gabriel’s library, the hunter frowned. “Where are the angels though?”

Gabriel paused. “Ah, well, I suggested they make themselves scarce. Wanted to show you the island, then introduce you.” He grinned. “They tend to get pretty overexcited.”

Smiling back, Sam nodded. “Ok. So, library?” And there was the grin Gabriel had expected (and would definitely not have sat up and begged for if he could. He was an archangel, he had dignity. Sometimes…)

Later, Charlie was breathless with delight (seriously Gabriel, you should enter a competition for architecture or something, and where did you get those computers??) The normally reserved Castiel was practically bouncing on his heels  (but there are Osmia Avosetta here!!! They make their nests from flower petals! Just look!) Even Dean had taken a minute to give Gabriel a fist bump (not bad, trickster, not bad at all.)

Later, it was time for them to meet the angels. Sam had been quiet for all fifteen minutes since he’d been told, and compared to the others’ excitement, it was like the kid had rented his own personal thundercloud. Concerned, and a little bit put out, Gabriel nudged the hunter’s hips with his elbow. “You doing ok there Sammy?”

Sam, who had been staring at his feet, shrugged and pulled on a nervous, half hearted smile. “Yeah. Yeah, fine. Just a bit nervous about meeting these angels.”

Gabriel bit his lip, thinking of demon blood and prodigal sons and getting it, actually.

“It’s alright. You’ve more than redeemed yourself in their eyes. And in mine.”  Sam smiled, biting his lip, and nodded, impulsively grabbing him in a hug.

“Thanks, Gabriel.”

So maybe Gabriel should have twigged earlier, when Sam had been so outrageous- because since when was the Winchester that bold? Or in the delay to smile about the library. Or that hug, or at some point. But he didn’t, and in his defense, neither did his brother or his friends.

Until suddenly Sam was using Gabriel's sword, and stabbing Khariel through the heart, pausing barely long enough to spin and slit the redhead, Amanda’s, throat. And then half the angels were backing off and half were running forwards, and Charlie was horrified and Cas and Dean were trying to break through the throng. And Gabriel was just staring at Sam, his Sam, covered in blood and lit by the dying grace of fallen angels, and thinking of Lucifer and family and watching it all fall apart like heaven was a damn slaughterhouse.

“Sammy?”

Sam stared at him, grinning widely, but there was blood dripping down past his eyebrows and Gabriel wanted to be sick but all he could think was that they were _his_ angels and this was _his_ Sammy and this just wasn’t possible. His wings were unfurling, shuddering down through the dimensions and onto this one, his true form shaking with horror and anger and pain and disbelief. And somewhere Cas was shouting something, but it really didn’t matter, because Amanda and Khariel were dead, and no one else was dying today.

And then Sam’s eyes went black, and he cocked his hips, and Gabriel felt the most immense relief, that could have made his knees buckle if that wouldn’t give him a disadvantage. 

“Hey Gabe. Remember me? I’m guessing you don’t, since it took you so long to notice.” Sam’s tongue licked angel blood from the corner of his mouth, and he put a big hand on a slender hip. “I mean, what’s a girl gotta do to get noticed?” The demon pulled the corner of Sam’s shirt down, because Dean was staring, to reveal the ugly red bite breaking the line of his tattoo.

Gabriel went to draw his sword, and then remembered that Sam had it – had stolen it and used to kill his brother and sister. The angels had gone still, staring at the demon and the archangel, unsure what to do. So Gabriel, unable to start the fight yet but willing to do this, shouted on every dimension.

_“Go. Take Castiel and the humans with you. Do not return until I tell you.”_

In a flurry of wing beats, they were gone. The monster wearing Sam laughed. “Oh honey, I’m only here for you.”

Gabriel’s gaze shifted to the two fallen angels lying limp on the ground. Sam’s body shrugged, examining its nails with a small frown. “Collateral. Lover boy sure is noisy, isn’t he?”

Gabriel took a deep breath.

“Let him go, Abaddon?”

Sam’s face split in a mockery of what was his smile. “Oh, so you do remember me! Aw gee, Gabriel knows my name!” His voice rose in a weird falsetto, and he fanned his face with one hand. It would have been kind of funny if not for the fact it was _Sam’s body_ covered in angel blood, getting jerked around by a demon. Gabriel fought, hard, to contain his anger.

And then, with sudden surprise, he realised that he didn’t need to.

_“Why aren’t you blind?”_

_S_ _am, laughing and cocking his head to the side. “You sound almost upset.”_

Gabriel grinned, and a tiny little frown appeared on Sam’s features. Abaddon drew Gabriel’s sword. “I’m not sure I like that expression on you, pretty boy. Play fair now.”

Smiling ever wider, Gabriel stretched into his true form, feeling the ocean crash up and over the roofs of the houses, and bolts of sudden lightning stretch across the dome of the sky. And he said the last thing the demon Abaddon would ever hear, his words climbing and shaking and reaching out into the harmonies of his true voice.

“You’re looking at the only archangel who won’t.”

 


	14. Finish With A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel isn't dead. Instead, he's sequestered himself a corner of heaven and started collecting genii. In his free time, he begins to stalk Sam Winchester. Sam is confused.
> 
> It was hard, to come back. Gabriel had not been free for so very long – had been trapped, by choice, in his vessel for millennia. And finally, finally luxuriating in his own skin was as addictive as it was liberating. He spread his wings, and felt the sun kiss his feathers. And then he stared down at the speck of dust that was his island, and the light of the one soul that had always mattered.
> 
> Set post S8. Herein be angels, tom foolery, destiel and archangel magicks. Enter at your own risk. (AU, as no Kevin, or Crowley. Not because I don't like them, they just didn't quite fit.)

It was hard, to come back. Gabriel had not been free for so very long – had been trapped, by choice, in his vessel for millennia. And finally, finally luxuriating in his own skin was as addictive as it was liberating. He spread his wings, and felt the sun kiss his feathers. And then he stared down at the speck of dust that was his island, and the light of the one soul that had always mattered.

In a crushing of himself, a folding and curling, Gabriel pressed back down into his vessel, and opened his eyes.

The island was smoking. The plants were scorched, any wood burnt, the metal and stone stained with soot. And Cas was going to kill him about the bees. And there was Sam, clothes torn and smoking, arms over his head. Shaking himself, Gabriel stood, and walked closer to his hunter. When he was close enough, he heard it. Soft, wet sobs. Like a child, naked and loud and helpless.

Gabriel crouched by Sam, putting his hand on the Winchester’s back, embracing the familiar itch as his grace tried to settle back into his vessel. Sam looked up at him, face wet with tears, and then shook his head, standing in a brief explosion of movement and turning away.

“Don’t. Gabriel, don’t.”

“Sammy?” Gabriel couldn’t keep the concern from his voice. It was all ok now, wasn’t it?

Sam huffed a brief, wet laugh, wiping his face with the sooty sleeve of his jacket, and managing to smear ash over his cheeks and nose.  “How can you-“ He paused, taking a breath. “How can you even look at me?”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, confused. “With my eyes?”

Another huffing laugh. “You can’t be serious, can you? It’s beyond you.”

Frowning, Gabriel stood, trying not to look at the limp bodies of his angels. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Sam whirled on him, long arms spread wide. “I broke it! I destroyed this, all this, everything you’ve worked for. That all of us have worked for, again. I mean, I could take back control from Lucifer, but not her?” His voice broke, and he gave a smile that wasn’t a smile and waved at Khariel and Amanda. “I killed them, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” He shrugged, rubbing both hands over his face. “I break everything I touch.” It was said in utter despair, quieter than the wind whistling round the scorched buildings.

And Gabriel was about to reply, when something caught in the corner of his vision. And then he was on his knees, and his hands were on Amanda’s chest and he was staring at Khariel and pressing, pressing with all the grace he had, forcing it into her wounds. And then she was breathing and he was laughing, and she was blinking awake and he was taking a moment to kiss her forehead before, gently, scooping up Khariel’s body and pressing two fingers to his forehead, too.

Sam, in the mean time, had paused, and was now staring, halfway between shock and wonder. And Khariel and Amanda were healed, and they were frowning and smiling, and Gabriel was laughing and hugging them with all the joy and fervour that had always brought Sam closer, like a moth to the light.

For a moment, Gabriel just took the time to hold his little brother and sister, hold them close and bury his face in their hair and know, know that they weren’t lost, or broken because of him. They were saved.

And then, gently, he let go of them and turned to Sam, and he was smiling, and he wasn’t sure why because the island was half destroyed and Sam’s face was stained with tears, and the ozone-thick air was suddenly heavy with rain as the sky decided how it felt about the lightning that had been ripping through it.

So it was, soaking and bloody and a little cold, that Gabriel got on tiptoes to put his hand on Sam’s face, while the hunter frowned down at him with an expression not unlike Cas’ kitten frown.

Gabriel smiled, and shook his head. “You fool. You silly, young, human fool.”

Sam’s frowned deepened, but then Gabriel reached up with his other hand and tugged him down. And when he was close enough, Gabriel kissed him. He shut his eyes, and he kissed him like he was dying and he was alive and all the mad, brilliant things in between.

And then Sam kissed him back.


	15. Epilogue

They lived a long, happy life together. Sam got old and self conscious, and Gabriel didn’t mind and teased him only for his shyness. Sam remained a hunter, but with Gabriel’s help had time to publish books, and see every corner of the world he could wish for, and some that may not otherwise have occurred to him. Dean and Castiel lived with them, and were happy too. Charlie was a frequent visitor, and Angel Island accumulated dozens of human teachers, who mixed with the angels in something like wonder, until the time came for Gabriel to take the Fallen back to heaven.

He did, to a heavenly chorus, showing them what his genii, his humans: Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle, Martin Luther King and Mother Teresa, had created in their absence. And by that point, the angels were in love enough with humanity to leave things exactly the way they were, and live in paradise and endless peace.

Cas, Dean and Sam did not know what had changed in heaven, or how. Gabriel promised them a surprise for all 50 years longer they spent on earth, living and loving together. And the archangel had never known a human life span to stretch so long, or to fill his world so thoroughly, but it did.

And then Sam, eventually, went to bed next to Gabriel, with a huff and a creak of his old bones. And he rolled over, and stared at his archangel with those eyes, that for all his body aged would always remain the same, and said, softly.

“I think I’ll die tonight.”

Gabriel gently took his hunter’s withered, papery hand, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

 

                                   


End file.
